MHA SYOC: My Assassin Academia!
by ManofPewter
Summary: With the rise of quirks came the sought after profession of Pro Hero, and with it, schools to teach the next generation about the ways of heroism. However, heroics were not the only industry emboldened as such. Join a group of outcast, misfit criminal teenagers as they hone their deadly arts at the Zoldyque academy, the worlds most prolific assassin school! SYOC Teacher/villain
1. Chapter 1

**MY ASSASSIN ACADEMIA (SYOC)**

 _By ManofPewter_

 **Chapter1: The Punishment Due**

 _ **Finch & Partners Arms distribution Tech Asia branch**_ **HQ**

Mr Mobius Finch, the billionaire weapons dealer and owner of Finch & Partners, sat at his desk one busy night, slowly making his way through a mound of tedious paperwork and praying for the weekend (and with it, his expensive golf trip) to come. He sat at his desk daydreaming of the warmth and the breeze blissfully unaware of what would transpire that night. There came a knocking on the door.

"Mobius! It's your bodyguards! Open up!" Cried a gruff sounding man from the other side of the door.

"What is it you, buffoons! Can't you see I'm busy right now?" He shouted back.

"Mobius, you're in danger! Open the damn door!" The man cried even louder. Mobius sighed, begrudgingly opening the door. There stood his three hired bodyguards, mercenaries more suited to warfare than babysitting. They all had serious looks on their face.

"What is it? I have a lot of work to do before I get home," Mobius spat, bringing a cigar up to his mouth. He activated his quirk, a simple party trick of an ability that allowed him to alter the friction of his skin, and used his sandpaper-like fingertips to strike up a spark, which lit a small flame and in turn, the Cigar.

"Do you remember when you hired us? You thought your life was in danger and wanted to spare no expense?" The gruff sounding man asked.

"Yes, what of it?" Mobius replied casually.

"Tonight's the night you get your return investment," The merc stated.

"Wh-what? What do you mean?"

"Tex picked up some hostiles on his… Wait… do you hear… whistling?" The leader said. There was indeed a whistling, which seemed to originate from a rattling window pane letting air in.

" _How pesky_ …" Thought Mobius. Then it happened.

The glass window behind Mobius shattered, the glass caving in and pouring down over his desk, he turned around in fearful awe at the sight, before his hired bodyguard rushed further into the room. In one motion, he thrust Mobius' head down and flipped his desk over into the air just in time for another shot to come flying in through the window, shearing the desk in half and spreading splinters across the floor.

" _What… what the hell?!_ " Mobius thought as the splinters arced over him and he fell onto the scattered glass shards below. His bodyguard loomed over him.

 ** _Name:_** _SARGE_

 ** _Quirk:_** _SIMIAN_

 _Sarge has an enhanced amount of strength and durability, which he can temporarily increase even further at the cost of some of his own intelligence in a process called 'Bestial Rage'. The quirk also gives him many Neolithic features such as an exaggerated brow and higher than average amount of body hair._

"W-what's happening?" He stuttered. One of the smaller mercenaries put his hand on Mobius' shoulder. The man was youthful looking and had a smooth round face with a slender, thin body. He wore a pair of black tinted goggles, but they were askew to the point that they only covered his left eye.

"Don't panic, but there are people here who want you dead," He said, nervously peering out of the shique glass walls of the elevator into the city's skyline.

 _"_ What-What do you mean?" Mobius replied, his mind unable to process the response in its alarmed state.

"Assassins, Assasins is what he means," Bellowed the hulking mercenary leader who stood between Mobius and the elevator's door. Mobius began to feel cold, nervous sweat trickle down the back of his neck, his delicately permed hair began to droop and his face sunk. "Don't you worry about a thing though, we have the situation under control. There's a helicopter waiting for us on the roof, so we only have to make it up a couple more floors until—" The leader was interrupted by an ear piercing whistle, followed by glass shards raining on the group. They ducked in a panic.

"Tex! What the hell just happened?" The third and final mercenary shouted. His body has tall and thin, with gangly limbs and sharp, defined facial features.

"I-I don't know, they shot at us again?"

"How in the hell?! They were three blocks away on the _other side_ of the building not 2 minutes ago!" He sneered, gripping his handgun tightly and flattening his body against the side of the elevator. There were several more whistles, followed by shrill snapping sounds like a firecracker, and holes appeared to materialise in the metal walls and door of the elevator shortly before the lights were shot out, raining sparks down on the group and bringing the elevator to a jarring halt.

"Tex, get a reading on them," The leader commanded, covering his terrified employer. The smaller mercenary nodded, flipping up his goggles and bathing the cramped, dark compartment in a low green light.

 ** _Name:_** _TEX_

 ** _Quirk:_** _RADAR_

 _Tex' left eye constantly and subconsciously projects a life-form detecting radar in a pale green colour of light. The radar has a 1-kilometre range and functions from a ridge mutation on Tex' head which is usually hidden by his hair. The radar has the uncanny ability to separate people by an ally, neutral and hostile, though only Tex himself can perceive this difference._

"I've got a couple sir," Said Tex, as the arm of the radar wiped around its circular confines. There were six blips, 4 were right in the centre, and probably represented themselves. Then there were two other blips, close together but far off from the centre. Tex pointed out of the window in the vague direction of the assailant's position "Slim, see if you can—" He began, then there was a whistle, a snap, and he dropped to the floor limply.

 _"_ Fuck, they got Tex! Sagre, what do you reckon we do?" grunted Slim.

"I need you to use those keen senses of yours and lay down some covering fire," Sarge growled, springing up and facing the door. Slim nodded and leapt out of his cover, firing shot after shot into the dark of the night only vaguely in the direction that Tex had pointed before he was eliminated. The barrage of attacks ceased, giving Sarge just enough time to wrench his fingers between the door of the elevator and pry it open, buckling the metal in the process. "Looks like this is where we get off," Huffed Sarge, yanking both Tex and a blubbering Mobius off the ground by their collars, each in one hand. Slim followed, firing a few more just-for-luck shots out into the dark before picking up his pace. The group ran through the thankfully barren floor, barging through a heavy set of doors and starting up the stairs.

"I think I got one of em," said Slim smugly, tucking his handgun into the inside pocket of his long coat.

 ** _Name:_** _SLIM_

 ** _Quirk:_** _SENSORY_

 _Slim's five primary senses, that of Sight, Sound, Taste, Touch and Hearing are all greatly enhanced. He uses this to increase his awareness of his surroundings, as well as help him with the accuracy of his shooting._

"You- You think we lost them? That they ran?" Mobius asked, fearful of the answer.

"Probably not. Slim, I need you to check the radar," Barked Sarge, throwing Mobius up onto his shoulder and sprinting up the staircase even faster. Slim struggled to keep up, but when he reached his leader's side he bent down over to the unconscious Tex and peeled his left eyelid open, which promptly began to project its radar onto the floor beneath them.

"Sarge, you gotta slow down, I can't see shit!" Slim grumbled, focusing Intensely on the warped and erratically shaking projection on the stairs beneath them.

"Im not in the mood for slowing down, so tell me what you _can_ see," Sarge replied, picking up his speed just a little.

"Well, wherever they was, they ain't anymore," Slim said, running his hands through his hair and wiping his brow before flicking Tex' goggles back down and righting himself.

"That's good news right?" Mobius asked his bodyguards.

"Hardly," The two conscious mercs said in unison. At last, the group reached the top of the stairs, huffing and panting from exhaustion. Sarge kicked the door down, busting the lock and throwing the hinges off. Sarge promptly threw down Tex and Mobius, got down on his knees and took a breather, Slim followed suit. Before them, centred on the helipad was the inactive helicopter which would take Mobius to safety. His eyes lit up at the sight of it.

"The… The helicopter! It's here! Get up you lazy bums, we need to get out of here, NOW!" Mobius cheered. He began to scramble off towards the helicopter, but Sarge grabbed his ankles before he could get out of his reach.

"What's the matter with you? You apeish…" Mobius growled.

"Wait just a minute…" Sarge replied thoughtfully. He rubbed his chin as he looked at the helicopter. "Something's wrong here…"

"What? What's wrong? It's the helicopter! a helicopter is a helicopter, let's go!" Urged Mobius sternly. Sarge did not relent.

"The rotors, they aren't running," He pondered. "I've flown with this pilot a hundred times, and he's always got the rotors running when we gotta get where we're going…"

"So what?! Maybe he's low on fuel, all the more reason to GET. ON." Mobius snarled.

"Slim, check the radar, one more time…" Sarge said, looking intently at the helicopters tinted windows. Slim did as he was asked, crawling over to Tex' body and slipping his eyes open. Slim gasped and covered his mouth before much sound could escape.

"Thought I smelt somethin' fucky," He muttered to himself.

"What? What's wrong?" Mobius said, crawling over to the projection. "What?" He muttered, under his breath. "Sarge, wasn't it just meant to be the pilot? Who the hell are those other two people… in… oh… no…"

"Get outta there! You sons of bitches!" Roared Sarge, standing up from his knelt position and throwing up his fists. There came the sinister snickering of two voices from inside the helicopter, and the rotors began to spin around.

"There, is that good enough for you?" Laughed a boisterous sounding male voice.

"Daibutsu, don't make fun of them too much, we're meant to be professionals," Came a more petite sounding female voice.

"Show yer'selves," Cried Slim, pulling his gun out. Mobius scrambled to get behind the line his bodyguards had set up, going so far as to crouch behind Tex' unconscious body. The two assassins revealed themselves, with an unconscious pilot in tow. One was a monstrously fat man, late-forties looking with deep blue hair spiky hair that ran around the bald-patch on top of his head. He had a long, thin, ratty looking beard and a matching moustache that seemed to defy gravity to stand up on its own. The other was a great deal thinner and a modicum shorter. She had fiery red hair and snow white skin, with rouge lips and eyes that were obscured by a sharp pair of spectacles. They both wore the same burgundy coloured formal uniform, with a patch on the left breast pocket emblazoned with a large "Z".

"Don't worry about your friend here," The woman said, throwing the pilot out of the helicopter onto the floor below. "We kept nerve damage to a minimum. Afterall, we're only here for Mr Finch,"

"Now, ya see, that's where we have a problem," Slim snarked. "Cuz' if 'Mr Finch' gets snuffed now, we don't get paid, see?" Continued Slim.

"Hmph," The fat man, Daibutsu said, stepping forwards off the helicopter. "You with the handgun, you did this to me, didn't you?" He continued, pointing out an area of his upper sleeve that was torn and stained with blood.

"What's the matter, fatass, want some more?" Slim spat at the ground in front of Daibutsu's feet.

"Well, I want to commend you on a damn good shot first and foremost,"

"It was my pleasure," Slim sneered. Sarge looked back at him, subtly gesturing to cool it.

"Then, of course, I want to take care of you myself, you smug prick," Daibutsu chuckled. He sniffed the air, then spat. With a sound not dissimilar to a gunshot, another of the same pellets of air that attacked them earlier was propelled towards Slim, who panic emptied his clip right at Daibutsu's dead centre. Each shot was pin-point accurate, but they could never hit their mark. They were blown off course by the gust kicked up by Daibutsu's projectile, missing the confident assassin by a hair. The pellet, on the other hand, travelled right into the barrel of Slim's gun, blasting straight through the metal and into his thumb which bent backwards, snapping and gushing blood. Slim managed a cry of pain before the pellet hit his temple, exploding outwards and rattling his brain. Slim fell back onto the concrete, unconscious. It was over in less than a second.

 ** _Character Profile_** _: DAIBUTSU AGUA_

 ** _Quirk:_** _BLOWHARD_

 _Daibutsu's quirk, via a mutation in the lungs, muscles, and bone around the chest area, allows him to intake and expel vast quantities of air at an incredible pressure. He can expel this air as a weapon, use his balloon-like body to deflect attacks or cancel out his own buoyancy with this air intake of air, leading to a robust offensive and defensive quirk._

Sarge took one look at his enraged comrade, and let out an enraged battlecry before charging at the assassin. Daibutsu grinned evilly, preparing for the engagement but Sarge never made it as far as Daibutsu.

"Mr... um… I'm sorry, Im afraid I don't know your name…" The woman mused, griping Sarge's colossal fist in her hand, which had turned bright red and popped with undulating veins.

"Just call me Sarge…" He growled through gritted teeth, fighting against her grip,

"Okay then, Mr Sarge, I'm afraid I can't allow you to harm my colleague, however unbearable he is, it simply wouldn't be proper professional conduct," She sighed, shaking her head.

"So… WHAT!" Sarge cried, finally freeing himself of her grip.

"Come now Scarlet, I could've taken him," Said Daibutsu, sounding a little disappointed.

"Yes, but then _you_ would've gotten all the fun, and that's just not fair," Scarlet, the femme assassin replied, tucking her arms behind her back. Sagre just began to snarl, grunt and hoot like a gorilla, entering a state of bestial rage, he balled up his fists and brought them up above his head before swinging them back down at Scarlet. Scarlet stepped back slightly, bringing one of her hands out from behind her back. With a disturbing pumping sound, it began to get redder and grow unsettlingly varicose. She looked at the attack coming her way, how painfully slow and predictable it was and tutted internally. With a single verticle slice of her blood red fingernails, the assault was stayed. Sarge was knocked back, and we were given time to look at his hands, he looked at the slice on each of them, leading down from the space between his middle and ring fingers all the way to his wrist, and it went all the way through. He looked at the blood gushing out of his wound, and collapsed to his knees, pressing his hands to his body to stay their bleeding. His teeth began to crack under the pressure of how hard he was pressing them together.

"Tsk tsk tsk Scarlet, that 's grievous bodily harm," Snarked Daibutsu. "That'll get you minus points with the reaper,"

"Nonsense, he's alive, isn't he? I'm perfectly within the rules," She replied, watching the droplets of blood run off her fingers. She finished it with a kick to the nape, her stilettos digging into the back of Sarge's neck and knocking him out cold.

 ** _Character Profile_** _: SCARLET DU'SANG_

 ** _Quirk:_** _VARICOSE_

 _Scarlet's quirk allows her to freely regulate the blood flow throughout her body, as well as the viscosity of her own blood. This allows her to give herself temporary limb-specific strength enhancements, close up her own wounds near instantly and defend against attacks. Once her blood leaves her body, however, it loses all special properties and cannot be controlled._

"Well, now that the 'protection' is taken care of, let's see to this billionaire asshole, shall we?" Daibutsu said. He looked over to his previous hiding spot, only to find the unconscious body of Tex lying alone.

"Curious, Scarlet, where do you think he ran off too? You don't think he saw the end coming and just jumped, do you? Because we don't get paid if that happens," Raved Daibutsu.

"Mr Finch, please come out from behind those barrels," Scarlet scolded, there was the sound of scrambling from behind a stacked together collection of fuel drums near the edge of the skyscraper they stood at the top of. A barrel toppled over in the ruckus, revealing a terrified Mobius sitting behind it.

"Ah, thank god!" Cried Daibutsu.

"Who are you, people? What are you doing here? G-get out! Right now!" Mobius howled in a frenzied panic.

"I'm sorry, have we not introduced ourselves? My name is Scarlet Du'sang, and this is Daibutsu Agua. We are agents of the Zoldyque academy,"

"W-w-what do you want with me?" Stammered Mobius. Daibutsu rolled his eyes. Scarlet silently scolded him.

"Mr Finch, someone with quite a bit of money want's you dead, and It's our job to make that happen," Scarlet said glumly. Mobius whimpered, scrambling back and kicking over the barrel of fuel he was hiding behind. Scarlet sighed. "Mr Finch, please do not make this more difficult that It has to be,"

"W-w-what are they paying you… I can double it- No, triple it!" He stammered, holding his hands in front of his face. Scarlet did not stop walking slowly towards him.

"Q-q-quadruple it! Please?! Anything! You can have anything!" He blubbered. Scarlet shook her head and Daibutsu huffed grumpily, taking a quick swig from his pocket flask.

"I'm afraid Mr Finch, we cannot accept your _generous_ offer," Scarlet began, pulling a handkerchief from her breast pocket and wiping the blood from her nails.

"W-why not?" Mobius pleaded. Scarlet kneeled down next to him.

"Well, Mr Finch, if I were to accept such a bribe, how would that reflect upon my company? Nobody would hire us if they knew we could just be bribed off so trivially,"

Mobius began to sob, burying his face into the concrete below.

"Don't fret Mr Finch, I've been briefed on some of your… shadier… business practices. Trust me, this is a punishment that it long overdue," Scarlet muttered disdainfully in his ear.

"Well, I suppose we had better get this over with…" Daibutsu grumbled, beginning to inhale. Then, Mobius began to scream, he sprang up suddenly, his self-preservation kicking in and adrenaline coursing through him. Scarlet was taken aback, she disengaged back in line with Daibutsu, who sputtered all the air out of himself in surprise. Mobius leapt, clutching onto the barrel of fuel which he had toppled over. The cap had fallen off, and the contents of the barrel had been slowly dripping out and spreading across the ground. Scarlet inspected the bottom of her heels. They were drenched in oil.

"Oh, bother,"

"I told you… to… GET. OUT!" Mobius screamed gutturally, the skin on each of his fingers hardening into a rough, sharp material. In a sudden motion, he snapped his them, making a sound like a bullet scraping over a chalkboard and spreading sparks all across the spilt fuel. The fuel exploded in a bout of blue and red flames, which extended outwards in a chaotic whirlwind of fire. Mobius cackled from his privileged position, observing as the blaze encircled his assailants.

" _Is that really it?_ " Scarlet thought, taking a step towards the encroaching inferno. Daibutsu put a hand in front of her.

"I'll take care of it, you stay back doll," He snickered.

"You know I hate it when you call me that," Scarlet chided. Daibutsi kept laughing. his nostrils flared out and his chest expanded outwards as he began to take in an enormous quantity of air, and then he unleashed it all. All unto the unsuspecting Mobius. With an incredible, deafening roar, a torrent of wind sheared through the barrier of flames, picking up the burning oil and becoming a fiery, burning whirlwind.

Mobius looked helplessly on at the twirling cyclone of fire that had been reflected back at him, and he surrendered his will. The last thing heard from him was a final yelp of fear before he was overtaken by the conflagration. The cyclone burst outwards, sending still-burning droplets of oil, melted hunks of metal and a vast array of sparks hurtling across the helipad.

"Well… It's a little messier than usual, but we got the job done didn't we?" Scarlet asked, overlooking the burnt, deformed ashen corpse of their target, Mobius Finch.

"We did," Replied Daibutsu gruffly. He twitched his nose, stroked his beard and turned away to look out at the lights of the city. Scarlet hastily tied the late Mobius' mercenary bodyguards (who were still breathing, by Scarlet's best estimate) to a nearby post, called emergency services, and dropped the disposable phone at their feet. She hopped up on Daibutsu's shoulders and he shot a spout of air at the ground, propelling the duo across the skyline and into the dark of the night.

 _ **Somewhere in the mountains, Europe**_

Not much time later, in a faraway part of the world, two figures progressed little by little through a consuming blizzard, slowly approaching the end of a long and hard-fought journey. One appeared short and youthful, with a spring in his step and a smile on his face. This was Kojo Kiken, prospective assassin.

His travelling partner was a great deal taller than him, with pale skin and a perfectly proportioned muscular frame. This was Clay Ajantha, Kojo's impromptu travelling partner and fellow prospective assassin, and he did not look happy to be there. Kojo attempted to lighten the mood by making some conversation.

"So, what brings you up here, bud?" He asked, swinging his arms down by his hips. his voice boomed, desperate to be heard over the sound of the howling wind. Clay Huffed.

"The law, mostly," He said stoically, his arms were held up to his face, shielding it from the torrent of ice and snow that bombarded the pair. Kojo nodded understandingly, then pressed forwards towards a ridge of snow, reaching its peak and then pulling a small device about the size of a coin from his breast pocket. On its front face, there was a glass panel in the shape of a Z, which blipped at regular intervals, releasing a robotic dinging sound and a brief burst of pale purple-red light.

"It's much faster than it was in town… Which must mean we're getting closer!" Kojo called back to his companion. Peering longingly through the cloud of snow and seeing a broad, dark and architectural looking shape on the horizon, built into the side of a mountain. " _Is that the place?_ "

Kojo skidded down the bank of snow and raced towards the tree line, his excitement building. Clay sighed, exasperated. "Wait up, you dumbass!" He yelled into the storm. No reply. Clay put his head down and began to run after Kojo, into the trees.

Clay caught up sooner than he thought he would, as Kojo had stopped to look at something in the snow. He stared deeply at it, intent and maybe a little anxious. Clay came up from behind him and towered above Kojo, peering over his shoulder. In the snow, there was a small and roughly dug pit which reached right down to the dirt, and in it lay a collection of more of the devices that Kojo carried, arranged in a mound. Some looked damaged beyond repair, some were simply inactive and a few kept on blinking on and off, shedding purple light over the snow.

"It looks like some people's journey ended here…" Kojo said, his enthusiasm from earlier deflated slightly.

"How… poetically melancholic," Mused Clay, kneeling down and staring wistfully into the pit. "This is something I must capture…"

Clay opened one of the many pockets on his thick jacket, pulling out a small sheet of crumpled paper and a stubby pencil. He sat down crosslegged and unfurled the paper, beginning to sketch down what he saw at an inhuman pace. With a final flick of the wrist, he was done, not 30 seconds after he had begun. He looked over his work pensively.

"Hmm… The mood is all wrong… Kojo, what do you think?" He said, whipping around to where his companion had been standing. That is to say, he _had_ been standing there. Now there was nothing behind Clay but a swirling cloud of thick fog and falling snow.

"Kojo!" Clay called into the mists.

"Shhhhh!" Came the reply, from above him. "Shut up! Or you'll attract _it_ ," Kojo said, somehow shouting and whispering at the same time. He was perched in the branch of a tree, his feet dangling off the side and his arms wrapped around the trunk for stability.

"Attract what?" Clay inquired. From behind him, there was a grizzly growling sound. "Oh, that…"

A pair of dirty white claws as large as a man shot out from the cloud, digging into Clay's flesh. He was knocked back against another tree, his coat snagging on a branch which held up his limp body seemingly for the purpose of displaying his grim fate. Clays body flayed outwards around the gash wounds, which penetrated right through him, almost slicing him in twain at several places. Kojo gulped. A great white beast stepped forth from the mist. It could've been a bear, but it was bigger than any Kojo had ever seen or even heard of. The fur around its paws and its muzzle was stained brown, and thick mucousy droplets of drool hung from its mouth.

"Clay! Are you alright!" Kojo called, attracting the attention of the beast, which whipped around and rammed its colossal head into the thick bark of the tree.

"How… tedious…" Clay muttered, his mouth still functional despite not being attached to his throat. Suddenly, his unbleeding wounds began to morph and re-shape. They became grey and amorphous, forming back together and re-sculpting Clay's body so that had his coat not been cut to ribbons you'd never have been able to tell that he'd been attacked. "How… ugly…"

 ** _Character Profile_** _: CLAY AJANTHA_

 ** _Quirk:_** _CLAY FORM_

 _Clay's transformation type quirk can be used to turn parts of his body into clay and grants him the ability to freely manipulate said clay. He can also alter the moisture content of the clay, turning it soft and amorphous or as hard as a rock at a moments notice, giving him a versatile range of options for both attack and defence._

Clay sprung up from his prone position, leaving his tattered coat behind. The beast noticed the commotion and turned back to him. Clay charged towards the beast, which reared up and began to roar before coming back down, it's monstrous claws aimed at Clay's centre line. Its claws never reached their mark, however, as Clay's own hand shifted and morphed, forming a pristine white halberd which extended upwards, piercing through the bear's thick hide and skewering it straight through the heart. Its roar turned gradually into a gurgle and its thrashing was stilled as Clay released his hold on his weapon and the monster fell to one side, lying limply.

"That went better than expected," Said Kojo, still clinging fearfully to the tree trunk. Clay nodded vaguely before going over to inspect the body of his kill. His ran his hands through its rough white fur until he reached its neck, where he felt something out of place. It was a band of smooth silky material, which he tugged on until it ripped away from the bear's neck.

A collar, white material with a silver medallion.

" _No wonder we didn't notice this earlier,_ " Clay thought as he turned the medallion over in his hand a couple times. On the front, the word "Snowball" was engraved in elaborate lettering, and on the back was a simplistic, cute looking design of what appeared to be a polar bear. " _Snowball, huh? I knew you never see polar bears around here. You must be somebodies pet…_ " Clay thought, absently retracting his halberd back into his bodies mass. Suddenly, the beast stirred again. Clay leapt back, shocked, while Kojo audibly yelped and buried his head into the bark of the tree. Clay watched as the wound through Snowball's chest slowly closed as it righted itself onto its four legs. As the injury healed itself, Snowball seemed to grow even larger, the beast's muscles contorting around its enormous frame.

"It has a quirk!? You've got to be kidding…" Kojo squealed.

"It seems to be turning its injury into its strength… Interesting…" Muttered Clay. Snowball roared once more, this time with enough ferocity to clear away the snow and the fog. Clay was spattered with slobber and droplets of blood from its last meal, he guarded his eyes ineffectually and formed his halberd again, ready for its attack.

"Kojo! Do you ever plan on coming down from your perch and helping out us less fortunate?" Clay grumbled, looking over at his ally while Snowball encroached on him.

"And, how would you suggest I do that?"

"I don't know, use that quirk of yours maybe, just do something!"

"Well, I might have an idea…" Kojo pondered, overlooking the situation carefully.

"Enlighten me…" Growled Clay, barely holding off the several thousand pounds worth of muscle, teeth and claws at the tip of his halberd.

"Well, first of all, I'm going to need an open wound," Said Kojo.

"Is that… some kind of joke?" Asked Clay, pausing for a moment to shoot a disdainful glance up at Kojo. Snowball lunged at him in the miniscule time opening, wrapping his jaws around Clay's neck. It bit down and Clay's head was crushed, liquidating and running out of Snowballs mouth before he lunged to the side away from the beast. Snowball spat out splinters of wood and specks of Clay before recentering its focus on Clay, who gulped.

"It's no joke Clay," Kojo said coyly. "And unless you're that interested in seeing the inside of a polar bear, I recommend you give me what I need," He grinned.

"Fine," Clay spat. "But I'm not doing it because you told me too," He continued, pressing himself up against Kojo's tree. Clay moved cautiously, keeping his eyes locked on the monster at all times. He outstretched his arms, leaving himself open and cried out while holding a fist over his chest.

"Come on you twisted thing, don't you want to get acquainted?" Goaded Clay.

"What are you doing?" Kojo asked, a hint of concern in his voice as the monstrous thing turned its whole body around to face the pair.

"Im bringing it right to you," Said Clay.

"Ah,"

Snowball roared and stomped its feet so hard that snow fell from trees and the ground trembled. Its eyes flared up, becoming pure red before it began barrelling forwards at Clay, sending plumes of snow flying off either side of it. The monster pounced, blasting snow every which way as it propelled itself into the air. Snowball stretched its forelegs out, its blade-like claws extending outwards and reaching for Clay. But just before the monster's claws reached him, Clay leapt into the air, launching himself from the ground with the help of his quirk. He flipped in mid-air, dragging his halberd across Snowball's back just as the beast's head collided with the trunk of Kojo's tree. The beasts flesh flayed open in a long incision over its back.

"Hows that?" Clay called, just about sticking his landing.

"It'll do," Kojo replied, taking action as he ran across the branch of the tree, jumping away from it and scattering a handful of pine needles across Snowball's wound just before it healed. Kojo landed face first in the snow right next to Clay, who kicked him over onto his back.

"Are you alright?" He asked insincerely. Kojo just groaned before sitting up and crossing his legs. Snowball's quirk began to do its grim work, and the monster's body grew ever larger and distended as he slowly turned away, lashing out with one of its titanic claws, he felled the tree that Kojo had been hiding in. Clay entered his combat-ready stance, but one bead of nervous sweat ran down his forehead.

"So, what's the big plan again?" He asked. Kojo approached the pair slowly, snarling with the volume of a jet engine.

"Oh, that's easy," Kojo began. He pointed his hand towards the encroaching beast, snapping his fingers. " _Blood Blossom: Wailing Widow_ "

Snowball paused, frozen in place. He began to whimper, and shake and spasm wildly. The monster began to go into a wild frenzy, flailing around and lacerating its surroundings all while wailing in agony. It reared up and fell back with a crash, rolling over on the floor and raking its claws over its body in a vain attempt at relief from whatever torture it was experiencing.

"Wha-what did you do to it?" Clay asked in distress.

"Just wait a little longer and you'll see," Kojo grinned sadistically. Suddenly, vines began to burst out of Snowballs body, each one accompanied by a spurt of blood and a cry of pain. The vines poured out of Snowballs body, coalescing into thick blood red knotted mass of bark and drooping, crimson leaves. Snowball's regeneration fought to overcome the vines as it thrashed around, cutting away as much of the wood as it could manage.

The struggle soon devolved into a tempest of white-furred flesh and blood red wood slowly forming into the shape of a tree. Blood spattered all across the snow, triggering the growth of yet more vines which piled onto the howling Snowball. Clay looked on in disgust.

 ** _Character Profile_** _: KOJO KIKEN_

 ** _Quirk:_** _BLOOD BLOSSOM_

 _Kojo can turn mundane plant matter into a special variety of plant matter associated only with his quirk. In order to do so, he must first come into contact with the plants, then he must expose them to a supply of blood. The plant's growth will be rapidly accelerated and its DNA can be altered to Kojo's specification_

"So, what do we do now?" He asked. Snowballs pained screams finally died down as vines covered its muzzle, and its white fur was obscured by the ever-growing and pulsating mass of red bloodied wood.

"Ah, I think this is the part where we get out of here," Kojo said.

"Agreed," Clay replied, picking up Kojo from the ground and sprinting towards the trees, Kojo following not far behind him.

The two ran for what felt like forever, and most of it uphill, through the darkened evergreen trees over the mountainside in the vague direction of their goal. With the last of their stamina, the two, at last, cleared the tree line, collapsing from exhaustion just before a set of ancient-looking stone steps, half buried by the snowstorm.

"We… we made it," Huffed Kojo, looking up at the now fully defined shape of the Zoldyque academy, It's gothic architecture looming over them forebodingly. The pair's eyes tracked the Academy, all the way down to the worn stone stairs at their feet.

"Just… 500… more… steps…" He continued, hanging his head and exhaling deeply.

In the foyer of the academy, Daibutsu Agua sat in his too-small stool, awaiting any new arrivals and puffing on a haggard old cigar. He cricked his neck, just as a knocking came from the gigantic stone doors before him. He spat, and the force of the air was enough to cause both doors to wing open energetically, leaving a both nervous and exhausted looking Kojo as well as an awestruck Clay standing before him.

"Afternoon," Daibutsu puffed, looking down at his newspaper.

"H-hey," Said Kojo. Clay continued to simply examine the architecture.

"What brings you kids round' here. You lost?" Chuckled Daibutsu.

"A-actually, we're here for the… um… the exam…" Kojo stammered. He held his Zoldyque coin out, its blipping was now a continuous stream of light and noise. Daibutsu examined it carefully, then began to laugh again.

"Well, I hope you didn't have too much trouble getting here!" He exclaimed, rubbing his ratty beard and laughing heartily.

"Well, there was a bit of trouble with a stubborn polar bear, but we… um… _took care_ of that…" Kojo laughed nervously. Daibutsu paused, looking down at the pair with his beady black eyes, which suddenly appeared full of fire.

"You… _took care_ of Snowball?! Our beloved family pet and academy mascot?" Daibutsu snarled. He got up out of his stool and waddled over to the kids, leaning down to meet Kojo at eye level. Kojo shivered with fear. "You kids…" He began. Kojo closed his eyes, shaking even more vigorously.

"You kids are gonna do great here!" Daibutsu exclaimed, springing up and erupting in bellowing laughter. He slapped Kojo on the back, causing him to stagger forward. Relief washed over Kojo, who held his own quickly beating heart. "Go right on through," Daibutsu said, gesturing to the door to his right and then returning to his stool. The two followed his directions, wandering through the door and down a maze of hallways and classrooms, directed only by laminated paper sheets which read "PROSPECTIVE STUDENTS THIS WAY" in bold 72 point font, which were hung up on the occasional corkboard scattered along their path. Eventually, they came to a wooden carved door. On the handle of this door, there hung a final sign.

"EXAMINEES HERE" it read, in huge block letters.

Kojo shook with excitement, he looked over to Clay, who appeared as stoic as ever.

"What's the matter Clay, aren't you excited? This is the first day of our futures!" Kojo exclaimed, patting Clay on the back.

"Hmph, how trite…" Clay scoffed. The two ventured forth through the doors.

Meanwhile, somewhere out in the snow of the mountains there limped what appeared to be a polar bear cub. Its eyes were full of rage, and in its teeth, it held a tattered silver medallion. In the beasts wake, there stood a tree with blood red bark and drooping burgundy leaves which wilted at an unnaturally high speed. The beast snarled in a way that could almost indicate exasperation, fell to its stomach, curled up into a ball, and fell asleep.

 **TO BE CONTINUED**

 _ **A/N:**_

 _So there it is, the opening chapter of my new SYOC story! I feel like we're off to a strong start, although I would love to hear what you thought of it in the reviews. This does not mean I've given up on my other story, but it does mean that I'm taking a break from it because I feel like a lot of early mistakes compounded and writing it became a grinding chore. Although that is on hiatus, I can guarantee you at least one more chapter that is about 60% done at some point in the future. But enough about that story, it's probably not what you're here for anyway. For those interested in submitting, there is a character forum below as well as on my profile, have fun :)_

 **MY ASSASSIN ACADEMIA CHARACTER CREATION FORUM:**

 **Name** : _Your characters full name, include any nicknames or terms of endearment used by others here._

 **Gender/Orientation** : _Self-explanatory_

 **Age** : _Anywhere from 13-18, considering the academy isn't as picky when it comes to age_

 **Appearance** : _A detailed description of your characters full appearance including all details no matter how minute. Image references are allowed but cannot substitute the writing (So you can include an image link, but saying "my character just looks like this guy from this anime" and a link isn't good enough)._

 **Quirk** : _A full description of your character's ability. Include several applications above its base application and give it a distinct weakness which is proportional to its power to avoid OP characters (though, an OP character or two might be good for the story, so that isn't a strict rule). No quirks that have been used in the main series, I don't care how minor the character if it's been used or something extremely similar has been used I'm not interested. In a similar vein, some general quirk types I shy away from are as follows_

\- _Shadow Manipulation_

\- _Energy Control_

\- _Elemental Powers (Especially fire)_

 _These are mostly just due to abundance, main series or otherwise and I find them trite by now. If you can come up with interesting variations on these abilities which add some unique or cerebral element then I would take that gladly. When developing your quirk, keep in mind that these people will be assassins so shy away from conspicuous quirks (things that would draw a lot of attention, like bright lights or loud noises must also be carefully considered before submitting)_

 **Personality:** _A description of how your character is as a person, their tendencies, how they interact with others, etc. Try to include at least 1 major character flaw which can be written around (I don't mean like "clumsy" or "tries too hard", something more like "crippling drug addiction" or "severe mental complex which stifles their social abilities and how they work in a team"). This is the most important part of the character submission so be sure to put in a lot of thought and care._

 **Likes:** _Things your character enjoys, at least 5, and don't be afraid to repeat yourself if you mentioned some in the Personality section._

 **Dislikes:** _Things your character despises, at least 5, and don't be afraid to repeat yourself if you mentioned some in the Personality section._

 **History:** _Some background as to why your character is who they are and how they got to where they are. This section can be used to explain and justify aspects of the personality section and so can be argued to be almost as important. Go into detail as to why they want to become an assassin or if they even want to be an assassin in the first place._

 **Statistics:** _Fill out the following parameters with a ranking from_ _ **A**_ _(best) to_ _ **E**_ _(worst),_ _ **S**_ _is a theoretical option above A, but only used if the statistic is on, around or above All Might level, so not realistic for a student submission (unless its one of those OP rival student deal, but even that's pushing it). Please be realistic as well, everyone has areas they excel in and areas they are weak in. If you have an_ _ **A**_ _(or an_ _ **S**_ _, god forbid) for every stat then its hard for me to take it seriously, so be conservative._

 ** _Power:_** _A measure of your characters physical damage dealing ability, and to a lesser extent their athletic capabilities. Do not factor in quirks to this stat, unless it's a physical enhancement type quirk._

 ** _Endurance:_** _This statistic determines how well your character can pain, injury or discomfort in both physical and mental forms. Do not factor in quirks to this stat, unless it's a physical enhancement type quirk._

 ** _Quirk:_** _This statistic represents the power or applicability of your characters quirk. Please factor in not just the quality of the quirk, but the user's apprehension of the ability. An average quirk with masterful apprehension is just as rightfully an A as an overpowered ability with an average level of apprehension. Hell, even if your character is quirkless they could still use this stat as a measure of how well they are at fighting against quirks as opposed to with them._

 ** _Intelligence:_** _This represents your character's brain function, unsurprisingly. This can mean their knowledge, apprehension skills and importantly their ability to strategize and make use of tactics in a fight._

 ** _Technique:_** _This one is slightly more esoteric than the others, so I can explain it using examples. Take an A to mean Ip man, and an E to mean drunken flailing and you should be able to puzzle out where your character falls._

 ** _Teamwork:_** _A port of the "cooperation" stat from the main series, this shows how well your character can work in a group, either in taking orders, acting efficiently with others or leading a team to victory._

 **Additional:** _This is an optional segment for if there is anything you wanted me to know about your character that isn't covered in the above criteria._

 ** _NOTE:_** _You do not have to use this form, but if you are going to use another forum please make sure it has ALL of this information on it and it is at least as detailed, or it won't do. ALSO, only 1 student submission per person, submit only through PM and title as "MY ASSASSIN ACADEMIA SYOC: [Your characters name here]" or I won't open it. If your character is already in use in another ongoing story then I would rather not use them (If the story is defunct or finished then its ok)._

 _So, here's how submissions are gonna work. I'll accept 1 out of the 20 student spots available every day until the final 21st day when the next chapter will be posted, so your deadline for submission is the 21st of September. This system gives me plenty of time for deliberation, and is hopefully fair on the people who want to spend a lot of time on their forums, so I'll see you on the 21st!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: The Phantom Troupe**

 _Zoldyque Academy, Examinee Entrance Hall_

Zora Moreno sat by herself at a table in a dark corner in the back of the hall. She silently observed around her all the tired looking examinees who milled around the room waiting for their entrance examination to finally begin. Nobody had talked to her and she had talked to nobody and this was the way she wanted it. Perhaps it was her appearance? Pale grey-blue skin, pure black eyes and even a glowing antennae bobbing in front of her face perhaps did not create the most welcoming image. She sunk into her seat and sighed, the combination of her warm clothes and the combined body heat of the crowd was starting to get to her. Maybe, she thought, they just had their own things to think about. Her eyes darted around the room some more, paying special attention to the kids with the serious faces. There were people all around with dark clothes, a surprising amount with dark hair, and all with angular malice filled eyes and fingers that twitched with brimming violence.

" _Some people take this way too seriously_ ," She wondered, resting her head back on her chair. There were more kids here with something different on their mind, who just tried to shrink into the crowd like her. Smaller people, with worried expressions and disfiguring quirks, eyepatches and stained hands. Whatever, it wasn't her problem anyway.

At last, a door on the far side of the room opened up. Something was gonna happen. All eyes in the room focused on the doorway as out stepped a red-haired woman with pure white skin. She carried with her an air of stern grace and discipline that put Zora on edge. This must've been Scarlet, one of the big shot assassins shed heard about before coming here. A Grand Reaper, right under the Grim Reaper himself, or so she'd heard. Despite not knowing what this meant, she was sure it was serious business.

The woman stepped up onto a makeshift stage at the far end of the hall, coming to a podium in its centre as the hall silently watched her every movement. She tapped on the microphone a couple of times, creating a high pitched ringing sound that hurt Zora's ears before apparently deeming the mic sufficient and leaning in to speak.

"Good morning, examinees, my name is Scarlet, or Ms Du'sang, if you prefer," Her voice echoed throughout the hall, reeking of fake enthusiasm. There was a long pause as her eyes shifted around the room as if waiting for something. She coughed. "I said, good morning, examinees," She repeated.

"Good… good morning?" A couple of stragglers at the edge of the crowd replied cautiously. Scarlet nodded, smiled slightly, then looked at the rest of the room. The other examinees all shifted awkwardly, before muttering "good morning" or another generic greeting in reply.

"Better," said Scarlet. "Now, I'm sure you all had a hard enough time getting here in the first place and let me just say, the hardships are not over yet. Before we move on to that, however, there are a few things that must be arranged," Scarlet explained, shuffling through a fat stack of papers. There was a collective groan from the antsy looking students. "First thing's first, I must tell you about the _Troupe_ system," She continued. A troupe system? Zora thought she would be working alone, but it seems not even that luxury would be afforded to her. She joined the rest of the prospective students in a groan. Scarlet fiddled with a little remote that she pulled out of her pocket, and the out-dated looking projector that sat on a steel trolley to Zora's left whirred into life. Some kind of power-point presentation popped up on the screen, full of diagrams and blocks of text that merged into a meaningless blob inside Zora's head. She yawned and blinked rapidly as her eyes tried to adjust to the sudden increase in light.

"I will allow each of you to sort yourself into groups of between two and five people, who will be taking the following exam together. They will score together, pass together, fail together and go on to work together in future education and employment opportunities available at our academy. That being said, if it comes to it, a troupe will also die together, so pick your allies wisely," Scarlet said morbidly. The ears of some kids perked up at the sound of the word "die", and they all rushed up to the table at which the little forums were being handed out. Zora put her head on the table, dreading what was to come. If she was going into a group, she would have to go talk to someone else, or someone else was going to have to talk to her. After some deliberation, she decided that the second option was a deal less painful and set her head down on the desk to wait.

"Excuse me," Came a suspiciously jovial sounding voice. She lifted her head up to get a look at its source. The boy was half leant over the table, at around eye level with her. He had floppy purple hair and an angular grin "My name is Kojo, Kojo Kiken…"

Hobbe found himself stuck, ambling around behind his a senior assassin of his, an important one at that, whose task was to carry out an inspection over the work that the boy had done. He was a skinny old man whos wrinkles almost seemed to absorb his entire face, and who gave an outward appearance not dissimilar to that of a bag full of dust. He walked slightly hunched over and with both of his white-gloved hands held firmly behind his back. Just barely putting one foot in front of the other, the senior assassin went from building to building, causally gleaming over the faux test area at a snail's pace, poring over every minute detail. In spite of the mind-numbing tedium of the old man's inspection, Hobbe couldn't help but feel a swell of pride wash over him at every approving hum and slight nod that was sent his way. After all, he and his fellow upperclassmen had spent practically all of the past summer constructing this place, deeply researching local architectural styles and painstakingly erecting each structure to the faculties most stringent standards.

The environment itself was modelled after a small rural village, with a series of buildings ranging from little wooden shop stalls to intricate masonry churches. However, the intimate cobblestone pathways and lovingly tended shrubbery eventually gave away at the outskirts, being replaced by a series of space, yet tall and dark industrials structures like warehouses and factories. Of course, the entire thing was still fake. One could easily see the break the thin facade by simply glancing into a window and seeing the plain, barren interior, or even by looking up at the dark ceiling of the underground cave system they had constructed in, intermittent with the many hanging tooth-like stalactites, which every so often produced a drop of water at their very tips that fell to the floor with an audible dripping sound that echoed around the walls and gave the place an eerie soundtrack.

After taking a tour of the entire rest of the facilities, Hobbe and his superior finally made it around to the dead-centre of the facility, a town square with numerous pathways set up all around, leading every which way. The place was constructed as a town square, a sort of hub that the examinees would be naturally drawn to from the south where their entry point was (though Hobbe had decided to take the long way around for the purpose of the inspection). At long last, the old man had reached the final building, and with that, the end of his final inspection. He walked up to the structure, a great big bell tower, and stopped and arms reach in front of its left side. He took care in reaching around with both hands, using one to slip the white glove off of the other before he reached out and dragged his fingers over the stone walls. His gaze was arrow straight, and his body moved with robotic precision. The old-timer may have lost most of his hearing and perhaps a little bit of his mind, but he had not lost his poise, nor his athleticism. In a flash of movement too quick for even the most well-trained eye to process, the assassin now stood on the ledge at the very top of the tower, running his fingers across the impeccably polished surface of the colossal brass bell which he found in front of him. The man took some time to deliberate as Hobbe watched him from below, totally clueless. A slight movement of the head was noticed, what could just about be described as a nod if you squinted at it. And, With his judgement seemingly made, the man dropped from the tower, landing face to face with Hobbe, perhaps a little closer than he was comfortable with.

"Well, Mr Timsh sir, what did you think?" Hobbe asked, his nervousness hardly contained. The assassin said nothing for a while, simply rubbing his chin.

"I hate it," He said finally. Hobbe's heart practically dropped out his body, and he turned as white as a ghost for a split-second.

"You… You w-what sir?" Hobbe asked.

"Not the whole thing mind you, just this one building," Mr Timsh continued, gesturing towards the bell tower. Hobbe felt a wave of relief wash over him, which quickly was replaced by a significantly smaller amount but still a tangible amount of stress.

"What exactly don't you like about it, sir?"

"Well, um, it's well constructed and all… but it simply throws off the _feng-shui i_ n this whole area, don't you think?"

"The… Feng-shui?" Hobbe asked, totally baffled.

"Yes, yes… Feng-shui is very important you know… Bad feng-shui can throw off an entire operation, do you agree?"

"A-alright… I'll keep it in mind,"

"So… are we getting rid of this building or not?" Timsh asked. Hobbe hastily brought his clipboard up to his face, frantically flicking through the small stack of rough, torn, folded, dog-eared papers. "Well sir, if you gave me an extra hour or so I could have someone down here and get it demolished by-" Hobbe' rambling was halted, not because he was interrupted, but because in the briefest of moments when he glanced up at his senior, he found the bell tower not there. In its place was simply a gap in the cobblestone where it should be. Hobbe dropped his clipboard.

"There, that's much better, isn't it?" Mused Timsh, putting one delicate hand on Hobbe's shoulder. Hobbe turned to face him, his mouth agape.

"What… did you?" He stammered.

"Ah, yes, you're going to want something to replace that, aren't you?" Mused Timsh. He grabbed Hobbe by the chin and directed his gaze towards where the bell tower used to reside. Now, a simple stone water fountain sat in its place. Hobbe tried to get a word out, but Timsh was already trotting away at his own pace, back the way the two came in.

" _So… That's the Grim Reaper himself?_ " Hobbe thought as he picked his clipboard up off the ground. " _At least he isn't as scary as I thought…."_ He checked his watch quickly and grumbled. " _Well,_ _Looks like its time to bring our targets in..._ "

That… was a lot easier than Zora had expected it to be. No sooner than Zora had reluctantly accepted his offer to group up had he dumped his beefy blonde friend at the table with her before reeling in two other kids to round out the five. Now, he was off collecting a forum to make the partnership between these strangers official. Not a word was exchanged between them, not until Kojo returned to his seat and slipped a small white card onto the table before producing a pen from his breast pocket.

"This is our registration card," Kojo explained, fidgeting with the pen in his hand. "We all need to write our names down here," He elaborated, hastily scribbling his own name in rough handwriting at the top line. Then, he tossed it over to his tall friend along with the pen which he rolled over the table with it. The boy did the same, and the process repeated until the card ended up in front of Zora. She took a moment to give it a cursory inspection. The names on the card read down, in the order that they were passed around. They were:

 _Kojo Kiken_

 _Yi Zhang_

 _Clay Ajantha_

 _Gantai Kijima_

And following that, a fifth blank space, where Zora wrote her own name, before sliding the card back to Kojo, who spun it to face himself.

"Now, one last thing before we hand this in," Kojo began, picking up the card and pointing towards everyone. He tapped a box in the top corner labelled "Troupe name:". "We're going to need a name for this rag-tag bunch, any suggestions?"

There was silence from the other four. A mixture of disinterest and confusion. Some looked to others for validation and some just put their heads down, ignoring Kojo completely.

"Anybody? Anybody at all?" Kojo pleaded. "Well, in that case, I may have a suggestion…" Kojo said coyly. There were no objections, which he took as a sign to continue.

"How about… **Phantom**?" Kojo raised one eyebrow to his compatriots, the overall reactions were mixed, to say the least.

"I don't like it," Spat the tall guy, slamming his hands down on the table jarringly.

"And why not, Clay?" Kojo responded. Zora gathered that this was his name.

"Well, It's derivative, and furthermore it's doesn't mean anything," Clat began to rant. "A name should make a statement, it should exemplify it's subject rather than just act as a shallow dressing, it should—"

"Do you have an alternative?" Kojo asked. Clay paused mid-way through a dramatic hand gesture and crossed his arms grumpily.

"I… No…" Clay mumbled. "But that doesn't mean we should just stick with the first thing that comes to mind," He added bitterly.

"Well, we could always put it to a vote, change or stay?" Suggested Kojo. "you can even go first Clay,"

"What? No, this is asinine, I want no part of it," Clay said.

"Clay, it's not asinine, its democracy," Kojo hummed. Clay grumbled before he relented.

"Fine. I vote we change the name," He replied, through gritted teeth.

"Very well, _I_ vote that the name remains the same. Yi?" Kojo asked, looking to the girl sitting next to him. She was light-skinned, with crow-black hair that drooped over her narrow violet eyes and terminated at around shoulder length. She juggled something disinterestedly In her hands, a little pink cellphone by the looks of it.

"Whatever you want, I don't care," She said, blowing a strand of hair off her face.

It was then that Zora lost interest. Her attention was instead drawn by the lean boy with pure white, straight hair that sat to her right. He seemed to be transfixed by her as he leaned in closer. His hand outstretched as his eyes only got wider. Was he… reaching for her antennae? If that was the case, she supposed it would be right to tell him beforehand that he probably shouldn't.

"I wouldn't touch that if I were you. Hey, I said I wouldn't—"

"Gantai, what do you think?" Kojo asked suddenly, whipping his head around to the boy. There was no response from him. He had a blank, glazed over expression, his posture was rigid and stiff and his lips were pursed tightly. "Gantai? Gantai?" Kojo continued.

"Yeah, don't think you're gonna get an answer out of him," Zora groaned, irritated. The others at the table turned to Zora, shooting her a disapproving glare. She recoiled nervously at the attention.

"And why not?" Clay asked, folding his arms.

"Uh… well…" Zora began, the glowing bulb that topped her antennae occupying her vision.

 ** _Name:_** _ZORA MORENO_

 ** _Quirk:_** _ANGLER_

 _Zora has physical attributes consistent with that of an Anglerfish. Most notably, a bioluminescent antenna protruding from her head with light hypnotic qualities which can also paralyse on contact. She also becomes much more effective when acting from water or in wetter environments._

"I see…" Clay said pensively. "That's usually the type of ability you want to be open about," He continued. Zora groaned internally.

"Well, I suppose that makes it two votes to me and one vote to Clay," Kojo said, setting his pen down before tapping the rigid card forum against the table. "I'm off to hand this in,"

"Wait right there," Clay interjected, putting his hand on Kojo's shoulder and pushing him back into his seat. "What do you mean two votes? I count one all,"

"Not so my friend, Yi's vote clearly counted towards me," Kojo grinned devilishly.

"Excuse me? That was definitively a 'No' vote," Clay retorted.

"You need to pay more attention Clay, Yi's use of the word 'you' surely implied that it was my vote to do with as I please,"

"Please, the 'you' was clearly addressed to nobody in particular!" Clay's tone became noticeably more heated. Kojo sighed.

"Well, if you feel so strongly, why don't we ask Yi about it?" He asked. Clay made a neutral sounding grumble. "Yi, was your vote addressed to me in particular, or was the term 'you' not meant for anyone at all?"

"Whatever you want, I don't care," Yi replied robotically, her eyes glued to the dancing lights occupying her phone screen.

"Well, that settles it," Kojo said bluntly, running off and getting lost in the expansive and winding queue of examinees. Clay just about popped a vein. He threw himself back into his chair, quickly regaining his outward composure, though an exasperated air still lingered around him.

"Hey, how come I never got a vote?" Zora asked. She was mostly ignored.

About a minute passed, not that Zora was keeping track, and Kojo returned to his seat. The card was handed in, and this group of strangers who were for all intents and purposes strangers were now officially Troupe: Phantom. Clay was still pouting about it.

"Well, with that out of the way, I suppose I should inform you as to the rules of our exam," Scarlet said, coughing fakely as if to signal something. Just then. What appeared to be a trolly covered in a tarp was hastily wheeled onto the stage by some faceless upperclassman, who left it right beside his teacher. Scarlet stood aside from the thing, whipping the tarp off to reveal the collection of devices arranged neatly underneath. There were three of them, ring-shaped and similar looking except for their size, bulk and the colour of light they produced from a band of LEDs around their circumference. The smallest of them was glowing light blue, with the medium being yellow and the final and largest having a deep red hue.

"These collars are your final goal in today's examination. You must collect them in order to accrue points. The blue collar is worth a measly one point, the yellow a moderate three points and the red represents a whole fifty points. A student needs ten points to win, and you operate in groups of five, I'm sure you can work out what that means," Scarlet explained.

"Uh… Ms Du'sang, how are we gonna get the collars?" Asked one inquisitive examinee.

"Well, I was just getting to that—"

"Yeah, actually that's a good question…" Scarlet was interrupted by a random loudmouth, triggering a knot of frustration in her stomach and a cascade of speculation from the crowd before her.

"Will we be fighting androids?"

"Oh! We could be fighting each other!"

"Is it gonna be like an easter-egg hunt?"

"No, no, no, no, no… my lord…" Scarlet grumbled as the examinees exploded into a great ruckus. She briefly massaged her temples. "Ladies and gentlemen, _these_ will be your targets," Scarlet stated dramatically. Her body language did a 180' as the crowd was silenced. She pressed down on her remote and the slideshow proceded, displaying a board full of faces, all facing forward in front of a similar looking white background and framed with a blue border.

" _Are these… Mugshots?_ " Zora thought to herself.

"The men you see on screen now are all criminals, death row inmates to be specific," Scarlet explained, bringing her remote down to her hips. "They will each be wearing one of the three varieties of collar that you see in front of you, which must be attained to score any points. However, the criminals will also have a goal in this exam, which is how we persuaded them to participate in the first place. Each collar has a small slot, not dissimilar to those found on coin-operated machines, which will be accepting the tokens you've all been given by our scouts and have been guiding you up to this point. If any of our criminals collect five tokens, we've arranged for their sentence to be reduced to life imprisonment, and if any collect ten or more, then they will be released immediately,"

"I don't get it, not at all!" A cocky sounding kid interjected. "This seems like a logistical nightmare, why not just use robots like any other school?"

Scarlet looked angry for a moment, but her emotions subsided.

"I'd be lying if I said we hadn't considered it, but there's a fatal flaw in such a practice. As an assassin, you'll need to learn quickly how a man fights when his life is on the line. I've yet to find a robot that can simulate that,"

"Hmm, there's that I suppose…" The same boy said, some wind having been taken out of his sails.

"Well, if that's all your questions taken care of, then we can move on?" Scarlet asked. She was just about to turn her back to the board when Kojo slowly raised his hand.

"Hey!" He yelled. "I just wanna clarify something,"

"Yes, what is it?" Scarlet replied impatiently, her voice straining to reach across the entire hall.

"You picked death row inmates specifically right? That means we can kill them just fine?"

Scarlet smirked. "We don't care what you do with them, as long as you have the collar at the end,"

"Perfect…" Kojo mumbled.

"But, I feel it prudent to remind you, young man, we picked murderers as well, which means we don't care what they do to you either," Scarlet said with a sinister hint to her voice. Kojo nodded, a smile creeping over his face. "Now, if we're done with that, why don't I introduce you to the men you'll be working with?" She continued, raising her remote to the board.

Scarlet began to flick through the slides rapidly, each one displaying a wall of faces at a pace that quickly became indiscernible. She must've got through twenty or thirty slides before she hit the first set of yellow bordered mugshots. She paused briefly, giving Zora a second to get acquainted with the generally more thuggish and menacing looking faces among the yellow-bordered criminals. After that, the flicking picked up drastically, rushing forward until finally, the flicking stopped, at the last page presumably. Four faces filled the screen, each one outlined with a thick red border.

"These are the Level: Red criminals, the highest priority targets we have," Scarlet said, placing her remote down on the table in front of her. "Between them, over 800 counts of murder, among a host of other atrocities that don't require explanation. The collar that each of them holds constitutes an automatic pass for an entire troupe, however, I advise the weak or the timid to steer clear. The Level: Red's are not just some common thugs, these men aren't to be trifled with…"

Scarlet continued on as Zora's mind began to wander off. Her attention was caught by the images flashing on the screen, the mugshots of these so-called "Level: Red" criminals. The first on the left was a bald, deranged looking man whose eyes were held open by some sort of grim apparatus that ran over his bared teeth. then around and down his back. Next to him, some sort of mutant with a bestial appearance. He had patches of black and white fur growing from his distended animal-like jaw in tufts. The next, a dark-skinned man with a tall, bony face, unusually black stained teeth and one piercing red eye. And finally, a tanned, pockmarked skinned gentleman, with thinning, greasy black hair that dropped over his face. Looking at them for too long put Zora ill at ease. It wasn't their appearance, Zora had dealt with thugs before, some much scarier looking than these. It was something more intangible about them that made her uneasy. Perhaps it was the way that their eyes seemed to drip with killing intent, or the smiles on all their faces, how they beamed seemingly with pride at what they've done. Zora looked away, putting her head in her hands. She was having second thoughts about this. Unlike most of the people in the room (she supposed), Zora had never killed before, and she wondered, looking into the eyes of these men to whom murder must've come as naturally as breathing, that when the time came she would even be able to.

Maybe she should back down. After all, there's no pressure to become an assassin _right_ now. There was always next year when she would be more prepared and…

"Well, that about covers everything you need to know beforehand," Scarlet stated with a rousing clap. She glanced down at a device strapped to her wrist. "And it would appear that all the preparations have been completed…" She continued in a more hush tone. Suddenly, a thin partition appeared on the room's western wall, which created a gap that slowly got wider accompanied by a mechanical grinding sound. Before anyone knew it, an enormous gateway had opened up before them, leading into a black void.

" _Oh, crap,_ " Though Zora.

"Boys and girl, your examination begins now!"

In the dark of the faux test environment, the ashen blonde, shabby and nervous looking boy wearing a second year Zoldyque uniform known usually as Hobbe pushed a trolley containing a one Johanne Pierre, also referred to as "The Peeler", a serial murderer who was being restrained by a coffin-like body cage for his own safety and the safety of others. The two were making there way towards Pierre's assigned starting location, inside of a faux warehouse on the western end of the test environment.

" _You know, thissh would be the mossht freedom I've had in sshix yearssh…"_ Lisped Johanne Pierre, his speech impeded by a metallic headbrace which kept his lips parted and his eyelids open at all times.

"Yeah… that's… really something…" The unfortunate upperclassman that had been assigned to him muttered, keeping the restrained killer at the maximum possible distance from his body. The two, at last, made it to Pierre's starting location. "Look, I'm going to be leaving you here ok? In about a minute or so, you'll hear a klaxon and that's your queue, got it?"

" _Oh, yesh…_ " He replied, absent-mindedly peering around. The boy tipped the criminal off the trolley he was being wheeled around on, taking care to keep him upright, then hastily turned, put his head down and began to walk away. " _Hey, you boy, wait jusht a minute…_ "

The boy froze, turning around slowly. Pierre was making eye contact, staring into his soul with the wide and unblinking eyes of a killer. " _Can I expect to shee you among my new playmatesh?_ " He chittered.

"N-no… I passed my exams already…" The boy replied apprehensively, and in as few words as possible.

" _Ah… what a shame… You looked like a lot of fun…_ " Pierre said sadly, turning back to stare at the wall of the faux warehouse. The boy felt a chill run up and down his spine. He rushed away, leaving Pierre in the dark.

The TA's word was kept, because about a minute or so later, Pierre heard the klaxon ring out around the echoey cave system. There was a beep from the electric padlock keeping him restrained before it clicked open and fell away. Pierre felt the binds around him loosen suddenly. The chains that wrapped themselves around his container suddenly released, falling to the floor with a clink and a metallic thud. The bars across his bespoke cage began to release themselves one by one and he unfurled himself, releasing his full size and stretching his long-inactive muscles. Despite his numb muscles and the grim metal apparatus strapped to his head, he couldn't help but feel the corners of his mouth curl up into a grin. As he took his first stumbling step as a free man, his bones creaked, his knuckles snapped and his toes cracked.

" _Everything sheems to be in order…_ " He hissed gleefully, overlooking his grim, mangled and deformed appendages. "Firsht order of bushinessh, I need to find myshelf some brand new freindsh…" He cackled. There came a sound of shattering glass from a nearby room, and Pierre began his hunt.

 **A/N:**

 _Hi there! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, though it's more of a prelude to the entrance exam arc (which may be more substantial than it usually is). Don't worry that nothing really happened, next chapter will be much more action packed!_

 _Now, some people have shown concern about my having trouble keeping track of large amounts characters with my cluttered writing style (which is fair). I anticipated this concern, and the troupe system is my answer. There will be four of them, and the perspective will switch between them on a chapterly basis, and hopefully, this makes things easier to follow. Thanks for your concern :)_

 _As for submissions, all student spots have been filled as of now, but if you still feel like submitting something then spots for teachers and villains remain open, as well as one flex slot for an upperclassman. The list of as-of-now accepted character submissions is below:_

 _ **My Assassin Academia Character List:**_

 _ **Gantai Kijima**_ _\- 17konbro_

 _ **Quirk**_ _: Attention Vector_

 _ **Yi Zhang**_ _\- LuciferXIII Trollkaiger_

 ** _Quirk_** _: Heated Touch_

 **Zora Moreno -** _Firealis_

 ** _Quirk:_** _Angler_

 ** _Freya Lybeck -_** _Pokemaster 64_

 **Quirk:** Soundless

 _ **Kiri Jun -**_ _DimensionBlade1_

 ** _Quirk:_** _Reaper_

 ** _Kaiser Vult -_** _reven288_

 ** _Quirk:_** _Serum_

 ** _Micheal Balcom -_** _Moclab_

 ** _Quirk:_** _Snatch_

 ** _Lexandra Merian -_** _Notadeadguy_

 ** _Quirk:_** _Blattodea_

 ** _Emilia Davenport -_** _JackHammerMan_

 ** _Quirk:_** _Antennae_

 ** _Jin Uzuna -_** _Psyman 21_

 ** _Quirk:_** _Selective Evolution_

 **Artemisia Eurus Wyonna -** _Flaming Fate Zero_

 _ **Quirk:**_ _In and Out_

 ** _Alex "Wolf" Harper -_** _AssassinKai742_

 ** _Quirk:_** _Spider_

 ** _Ontario Luca Di Carita -_** _Egotistical Casual_

 ** _Quirk:_** _Poisonpine_

 ** _Damon La Roux -_** _Maxcron_

 _ **Quirk:**_ _Overclock_

 ** _Remus Wilder -_** _ZodiacPanic_

 ** _Quirk:_** _Ink_

 ** _Raymond Jamus -_** _onyxwhip_

 ** _Quirk:_** _Shock Trooper_

 _ **Hadan Ayanga -**_ _61394_

 ** _Quirk:_** _Discharge_

 _ **Sebastian Jude Forestier -**_ _Silverstone007_

 ** _Quirk:_** _Ghost in the Shell_

 _Thanks for reading, and I'll talk to you in the next one! (no date set :/)_


	3. Chapter 3 :Entrance Exam Arc:

**_[ENTRANCE EXAM ARC]_**

 **Chapter 3: The Peeler**

Set above the great cave inside of which the Zoldyque academy's most recent entrance exam is taking place, there was a small booth which quietly and invisibly received various signals from the multitude of hidden cameras and recording drones which surveyed the faux environment vigilantly. Inside of said booth, there sat Grim Reaper Alistair Timsh in a too-big leather chair in which he slumped sleepily, apparently not paying much attention to the information flooding in from the numerous screens set in the wall.

Sitting with him, on a nearby stool, was Scarlet Du'sang, one of the few faculty members who had volunteered to survey the exam alongside the school's head. All was quiet as the last preparations were being worked through.

Scarlet heard and all too familiar sound from the other side of the door, approaching quickly. It was the sound of heavy, careless stomping that could only be coming from one man.

"Scarlet you devious bitch!" Cried Daibutsu boisterously, throwing open the doors to the observation room. Scarlet massaged her temples and the man muscled his way into the room, grabbing her by the shoulders and getting slightly closer to her face than she was comfortable with. "'oh, I advise the weak or timid to _steer clear,_ the level: Reds are not to be _trifled_ with'" He cackled, quoting her teasingly. "That's even better then we wrote it up!" He shouted, falling back into a chair on the other side of the room and slapping his knee. He puffed on a cigar that he pulled from a delicate wooden box pulled from his immense pockets.

"I… I suppose," Scarlet said depressively.

"What's the matter with you," Daibutsu asked, feinting interest. He put his feet up on the console, pressing multiple buttons with his heel and probably fucking up some delicate calibrations in the process.

"Well… I… I don't want you smoking in here. I don't like this smell and it's bad for Mr Timsh's health," Scarlet spluttered, looking away. Daibutsu rolled his eyes, took one long drag from the cigar and blew a heft cloud of smoke right into Scarlet's face.

"What's the _real_ problem," He said seriously. Scarlet waved the smoke away absently, trying to conjure up another half-truth, but she bit her tongue. Like it or not, Daibutsu knew her too well to be lied to.

"I.. I just can't help but get this feeling…" Scarlet hesitated, crossing her arms and looking up at the ceiling.

"Can't help but get what feeling?" Daibutsu asked, setting his feet on the ground and leaning back in his chair.

"A feeling that this exam is somehow… unfair…" She said in reply. Daibutsu raised one eyebrow.

"Unfair?" He squawked.

"Yes, well… what we're asking these children to do… It may be beyond the capacity of even a second or third-year student…" Scarlet explained. Daibutsu snorted.

"So what?"

"Well, there's at least a hundred children running around down there, and most will surely be running towards their end… It just reeks of unnecessary death," Said Scarlet.

"Unnecessary death my ass!" Roared Daibutsu. "These kids are fucking asking for it," He cackled. "In fact, I'm getting a real kick out of imagining all those snot-nosed shits running around thinking they're gonna have an easy time of mowing down petty criminals," Daibutsu snorted, throwing himself back in his and kicking his feet up back on the panel in front of him.

"You brute," Scarlet scolded. "This is exactly why I didn't want to talk to you about this," she growled, losing her cool for a split second. She realised her mistake, however, and her cool professional persona took hold again as she righted her glasses and fiddled with the hem of her skirt. "Mr Timsh, sir, what are your thoughts on this?" She asked. The old Grim Reaper wiggled in his chair and rubbed his chin pensively.

"Ms Du'sang… You always were a softie. All that 'unnecessary death' talk…" Timsh began, his tone tired and disinterested.

"Sir?" Scarlet pressed.

"Quite frankly Scarlet," the old man said, spinning around to face his two bickering subordinates. "If they can't deal with a couple of measly mass murderers, I don't want them anywhere near my school,"

After rushing into the darkness only to fall down what seemed to be a cleverly placed hole in the ground, Zora found herself comfortable. She was warm, lying on something soft and the environment was dark and dank, just the way she liked. Then she realised where she was, and her anxiety quickly returned. She threw open her eyes, sitting upright on the landing pad, and looking over her troupe.

"How is everyone?" Kojo called back to the squad. Clay just grumbled and dusted himself off, whole Gantai said nothing, instead simply standing sulkily by a tree to the side of the path.

"Fine," Yi answered, standing near the landing pad with her hand on her hip, fiddling with a strand of her jet black hair.

"Uh… anxious, and tired all of a sudden," Zora said, trying her best to communicate as she knew would have too.

"That's nice," Said Kojo. The group took a pause to examine their surroundings. They were on a dirt path that ran across a patch of raised ground which leads past a line of trees to a series of quaint looking buildings in the distance. The buildings wrapped all around them, in a ring, and beyond them were more trees until nothing more could be seen in the inky blackness.

"It appears the action is happening over there," Kojo mused, narrowly avoiding a hurrying group of examinees who barged past him to rush down the path, past that sign which read "SQUARE". His eyes were directed towards the buildings in the distance, where the light shone most brightly. Sounds of chaos and violence could be heard faintly, clashes of metal and screams of either pain or joy echoing off the cavernous walls.

"Well look at what we got here boys. A couple a' stragglers!" Came a cocky sounding voice from behind the phantoms. They turned to meet their new acquaintance. He was of about average height, with dark brown spiked hair and tan skin. He wore the clothes of some kind of punk or delinquent, and they were ripped and torn in a fashion that seemed purposeful. He was followed by several other hulking figures all in a similar get-up. Zora looked them each in the eyes. Killers. All of them. And by the looks of it, they took pride in their status.

"What's the matter? Too scared to get into the action? Couple a' cowards…" The punk said, striding past them.

"Dick…" Zora mumbled under her breath as the thuggish boy passed her. He stopped suddenly, and Zora gulped. Perhaps she had been too loud? The punk turned to confront her.

"What did you say to me? Huh? Feel like saying that to my face, bitch?" The punk spat. He brought his hand up, primed for a slapping motion, but Clay sprung into the fray. The punk tried to strike Zora, but Clay snapped up his hand mid-arc, gripping on to it by the wrist. The punkish-looking boy turned his head up to the towering Clay, their wills clashing against each other and producing a palpable tension.

"Well well well, look at this, boys! a white knight! Come to the aid of this poor little girl, eh?" The kid sneered, turning his nose up at Clay.

"Who are you calling a coward?" Clay growled, his grip tightening.

"Oh, never mind… Looks like he's just full of himself,"

"Who. Are. You. Calling. A. Coward." Clay snapped.

"Hey, mind letting go of my hand?" This kid replied, grinning smugly.

"WHO?" Clay roared. Cracking sounds could be heard as his hand contracted tighter and tighter around his victim's wrist. Clay was in full intimidation mode, his massive and imposing frame bearing down relentlessly on the relatively short punk. He sighed.

"Alright then, well do it your way," He groaned, curling his hand into a fist. Suddenly, his eyes began to glow, and a wave of intense red glow shot down his arm, running up along to his wrist where it exploded outward in a blast of light and kinetic force. Zora yelped, ducking out of the way of the blast and putting her arms against her face.

Kojo's jaw dropped. Before the smoke had even cleared, Clay's distinct muscular arm sailed through the air and crashed into the ground next to him, its hand mangled and bruised. He looked back to his ally, who had been thrown back a good foot or so, and stood hunched over, while his opponent stood tall, a crimson aura enveloping his arm.

"So, I take it you don't know who I am yet? Who we are yet?" The boy grinned. "Then let me clear that up, my name is Tarkus Montague, and this is my gang," Tarkus announced, pointing to his posse of thuggish killers. Clay's head shot up, his gaze locket on Tarkus. He charged recklessly at the group, and Tarkus balled up his fist once again.

The red aura enveloped it again, but it didn't explode quite yet. Instead, it formed into a stable corona around his hand. Clay reached out with his remaining hand, and Tarkus drew his fist back, aiming for a clash. The two attacks met, but as Clay's hand passed through the corona it was aggressively repelled outwards at a destructive velocity, leaving him open to Tarkus' follow through. His arm swung along Clay's arm, blasting it out of the way as the blow landed in the chest, sending the full force into Clay's abdomen. There was another explosion, and Clay had a chunk blown out of his chest which flew back with him and landing in a heap along with his main body and his previously severed arm.

"Sorry about killing your guy, but he pissed me off, so I guess I had no choice," Tarkus said, looking over Clay's immobile body, when it began to morph, getting a surprised look out of the boy. Clay's body melted into a pool of grey semi-solid matter, and he reformed out of it, standing taller and stronger than ever. He rushed Tarkus again, who rolled his eyes and held his arm out. The aura ran along it again, but this time shot out of the end, continuing onwards in a stable form. It turned and writhed in the air like a serpent, twisting and slamming down on Clay, who was forced violently to the floor by its influence.

"You underestimate my power, so I guess you really have no idea who we are? Why don't we show you?" Tarkus said, slipping his jacket off. His gang did the same and revealed a mark running up the arms of each member, shaped like an eastern dragon which wormed its way up to the shoulder where its head was. "You see this mark?" The boy said, displaying the tattoo on his shoulder with bubbling pride. "This is who we are. We're **Dragon** Troupe, have been, always will be. You should've seen the killing spree we went on to get the scout's attention. The point is, a rag-tag group of pretty-boy shits like you should just get out of our way," He growled, exerting his glowing red aura on Clay, who was forced to the ground once again.

Tarkus' attack let up, and Clay fought up to his feet. His teeth were clenched to the point of shattering, and his whole body vibrated with rage. He turned around slowly, his Halberd already formed in his hand. He took one step towards the Dragon Troupe before Kojo put his arm out to stop him.

"What? Are you—" Clay roared through grit teeth.

"Now, Clay, we aren't here to fight among the other examinees," Kojo said, his tone as gentle and calming as he could muster. Tarkus stifled a laugh.

"Hmph, that's what I thought, cowards," He spat. Clay tried to force his way past Kojo, but he was stopped once again. The two locked eyes, and seeing that Kojo was serious, Clay backed down but did not drop his confrontational exterior.

"Better?" Whispered Kojo to his friend. Clay snorted angrily and crossed his arms, to which Kojo nodded. "And as for you," He said turning to Tarkus. Tarkus raised his eyebrows, a grin coming across his mouth and revealing his sharp, angular teeth. He held a hand out, red energy buzzing around it.

"What?" He said, confidently.

"Good luck!" Kojo beamed, taking Tarkus off guard. He slipped his hands back into his jacket pockets and proceeded past the group, giving Clay a menacing side-eye before gesturing his lackeys to his heel.

"I'd say I'd see you later, but you'll probably get yourself killed, so bye!" Tarkus gave a final parting salute and disappeared down the hill and along the path, into the darkness and towards the action.

"He was handsome, huh?" Yi asked, grinning in a fashion that seemed uncharacteristic to Zora. The girl had seemed pretty dis-interested and deadpan up until this point, but her voice had a passionate, sadistic undertone that Zora hadn't noticed.

"Well?" Pressed Yi.

"Oh… uh… I guess? I was more focused on not getting blown up, I guess… heh…" Zora replied hastily.

"Mmm… I would just love to get my _hands on him…_ " Yi bubbled. Her face turned bright pink for a moment as she fawned, and Zora swore she saw a light haze emanating off of it for a moment before the intense blush receded.

"O-okay…" Zora said, trying to end this conversation before it went in a direction she wasn't comfortable with.

"Hmph… Your no fun…" Yi huffed, strutting off.

Clay cricked his neck before trotting off after the Dragon troupe.

"Wait up, Clay," Kojo said, holding his finger out to him. Clay turned, his eyes smouldering.

"Why?" He hissed.

"Where do you think you're going?" Kojo answered his question with a question.

"I'm going to the square, and I'm going to show those ignorant rats—"

"The square Clay? Where everybody else will be going? Get it together man," Kojo snapped.

"You think I'm going to let that insult go unchallenged?" Clay seethed, raring to go. There was a long pause as Kojo rest his head in his hands.

"I have a plan,"

"What would that be," Clay grumbled.

"It's quite clever actually, Gantai gave me the idea," Kojo said. Gantai's head shot up at the mention of his name, he looked quickly side to side and noticed Kojo pointing at him, at which point he waved awkwardly and looked down again.

"You see Clay, we've got no reason to think that in such a huge environment there would be so many targets bunched up in the square…"

"What are you saying?"

"Well, if we assume the most sensible position that the practitioners of the exam spread the targets relatively equally out among the environment, then it would surely be better to go off the beaten track, no? We can scoop up a ton of points by starting at the end and moving backwards, while the other examinees squabble over the few available collars in town," Kojo explained. The rest of his troop nodded along.

"So that means we go into the woods?" Zora asked.

"Which means we should be going into the woods!" Kojo exclaimed, ignoring her completely. She decided to sulk with Gantai by the tree for a while.

"Sounds good to me," Clay huffed. Yi nodded, and it was settled. Troupe: Phantom ventured into the dark of the forest. They walked for a long time around in the near pitch darkness of the faux woods, passing identical tree after identical tree. Zora felt like she was losing all sense of direction, but Kojo pressed forward, and his confidence reassured her at least a little bit. She picked up the pace, walking by the closest member of the troupe. Though she wasn't one for socialising, attempting to make friends would probably make this whole ordeal a modicum easier.

"So… Uh… sucks that you got beat up, huh?" Zora said, trying to relate to her teammate. Clay just turned his nose up at her.

"That's ridiculous. I never got 'beat'. He effectively did no damage," Clay pronounced, sounding wounded. He strode off ahead of Zora, easily outpacing her. In the end, she ended up hanging at the back of the pack for a while until they all stopped at a clearing.

Zora noticed something ominous about this place. She could hardly see in the dim light, but she smelt something foul. She stumbled around trying to find somewhere to sit and take a brief pause but tripped and fell, directly into the lap of a corpse. She yelped, scrabbling backwards and rubbing the blood on her hands into the fake grass.

"Corpses, huh? They must've had the same idea as us. It doesn't seem to be working out for them, though," Kojo mused, prodding the dead examinee with his foot. A rustle could be heard from among the trees.

"Guys, what was that?" Zora asked nervously. Her danger instinct, which was sharp among all animal-mutants, fired off wildly while the pressure detection sensors around the base of her antennae were picking up more than the usual amount of discord. Something was up.

"It was probably just the wind…" Replied Kojo absentmindedly.

"Were… underground…" Clay noted.

"Ah, fuck," Kojo said, his eyes widening. Suddenly, a small band of criminals burst out from behind bushes and leapt down from the top of trees, their previously shining blue collars being dulled with blood and dirt. There were three in all. The first to emerge, a grotesque and fat man, charged towards Yi, grabbing her by the arms and disappearing behind a cover of foliage taking her with him. Kojo squealed, planting his hands on the nearest corpse and shooting up into the treeline, carried by a bunch of flowering vines.

"Kojo! You damn coward!" Clay yelled after his companion, but he had already disappeared. He didn't have much time to curse the boy, however, because in the same instant the criminal who leapt from the trees landed on his shoulders, causing him to stagger. The criminal craned his snake-like neck around and bit into Clay's trapezius muscle, snickering all the while. Clay recoiled in disgust, remaining in place as his lip trembled. The snake criminal removed his teeth from Clay's neck and transported his head over to his ear.

"Kuhuhuhu… how did you like that? My venom should be making its way around your left arm by now, you better not let it reach your brain, or its aaaalllll over…" He whispered. Clay inhaled, then exhaled meditatively. He raised the arm in question, morphing it into goopy grey clay. The arm started to turn and turn, twisting and coiling tighter and tighter until liquid began to drip from its bottom side. First clear, like plain water, but eventually taking on a green tint and hissing as it hit the floor. The snake man threw his head back in horror. Not only had his venom been expelled as quickly as it had been administered, but the wound that he left on the boy's neck had covered up completely without so much as a scar or drop of blood. The snake man tried to leap back, but his legs were already being absorbed into the formless mass which Clay was quickly devolving into. Clay looked straight up, lining up the pair's heads.

"You know, I'm actually quite glad you attacked me. I needed to blow off some steam anyway, and you seem like the perfect target,"

"What…. What are you?" The snake man pleaded.

"Clay, mostly," Clay shrugged, before opening his mouth inhumanly wide. A spike formed where his tongue once was, which shot outward in a flash and retracted just as fast. The snake man experienced a last millisecond of consciousness before succumbing to the clean circular wound which had suddenly appeared all the way through his head. He fell backwards, landing with a hefty splash in a little puddle. His head flopped around before his limp neck found its resting place. As Clay's body began to reform, he scoffed, disgusted, at the still twitching cadaver of his assailant.

Yi was tossed roughly onto the ground by her opponent, who loomed over her with a sinister, depraved look in his eyes. Yi fought to her feet, her breath was short and her head spun. She looked at the spot on her arms where she had been grabbed, seeing a round pattern of pin-prick wounds going through the sleeve of her blue suit jacket.

"You know…" The fat man spat, his jowls wobbling grossly with every minute movement of his head. "When I was a free man, all the papers would call me 'The Skirt Killer', because I only ever went after little school girls, the kind that wears those tiny mini-skirts? Aah, I never expected to come across such a perfect specimen in this dump. You, my dear, are a dream come true," He cackled. Yi retched internally.

"Another name they would call be my was 'The Leech', because, well, you probably know already," The fat man continued, flashing his palms at Yi. Set in the centre of each was a circular jawless mouth. They both constantly undulated with small sharp teeth and exuded a thick mucusy drool at all times. Yi scowled. She wiped the gunk on the front of her blazer, before casually rolling up her sleeves to the elbow.

"You… disgusting…" Yi seethed. The fat man's face contorted in rage.

"What?! You skank! I've killed for less than that before, come here, you're mine!" He cried, rushing Yi once again, he wrapped his hands around her raised forearms, grinning evilly, almost as if he'd won. There was a crackling sound, the smell of burning. The fat man's brain processed this before the intense searing pain which erupted from his hands. He retracted his grip, falling backwards and flailing around, kicking and screaming like a child. Yi's arms were glowing a hot pink colour, emanating heat haze which warped the air around her.

"More than you can take already? Come now, that was only one-tenth of what I can _really_ do~" Yi said. Her eyes glistened with malefic aura. Her skin became hotter and hotter, turning from pink to red and finally white as the hissing of the heat increased to a maddening high pitch. "Now… Let's see if we can't make you any uglier~"

Yi swung her arm out towards her foe, sparks trailing off her fingers as her hand arced through the air. Her attack struck him directly in the face, and she clamped her hand shut over his mouth, muffling his inevitable screaming. The man kicked and thrashed as Yi wrestled him to the ground shoving his head into the mud as deep as it would go. He tried to grab at her, but his hands retracted instinctively at the lightest touch. His skin began to smoke and burn, releasing a noxious scent into the air. Yi's grin grew wider and wider, twisted by the heat warping the air around her she appeared like a demon. Her cackling echoed throughout the dark walls of the great caves as the killer entered into his death through and then abruptly stopped moving.

Eventually, Yi decided she was done with the man, she retracted her hand and de-activated her quirk. Soon her arm was back to its normal pale colour, and she slid her sleeve back over it. Yi surveyed her work on her unfortunate attacker. His face had devolved into something altogether repulsive, a film of black cracked and smoking skin which writhed upon a cauldron of hissing, boiling fat that leaked out of every hole. The bored look returned to Yi's face, and she strutted off to return to her compatriots.

* * *

 _ **Name:**_ _YI ZHANG_

 _ **Quirk:**_ _HEATED TOUCH_

 _Yi can heat up her skin to temperatures up to and even sometimes exceeding 100' Celsius. This ability can be destructive, but also grants her effective immunity against an opponents fire or heat based ability, while retaining the inherent defence of being practically untouchable due to her temperature_

* * *

Zora was left alone, her allies having since disappeared into the darkness to fight their own battles. She looked around, watching or feeling for any danger. There was a break in the eerie quietness, which came from behind her. The sound of metal sliding up against metal, and of heavy breathing. She whipped around just in time to meet her assailant head on.

The man's body was covered in sharp metal blades that jutted out of him like quills. Several blades in the place of his fingernails gave the impression of gnarled animalistic claws, and his hunched over posture and face wrapped in bloody bandages drew the humanity away from him, making him seem more like some kind of carnivorous beast.

He swung out at Zora repeatedly, slashing to and fro and incredible speeds. Cuts appeared over her skin, and tears in her clothes almost spontaneously as he approached her. He brought both his arms back, building up for what appeared to be a killing blow, but Zora took a moment to observe her situation. Her attacker appeared to have left himself wide open in his confidence to finish her off. There was only one thing to do. Zora took advantage of the opening and delivered a visceral headbutt into the criminal's chest. He staggered back, and his muscles abruptly seized, causing him to sink to his knees before Zora.

Zora stepped around back of the stationary criminal, gripping his neck in a fashion appropriate for granting a quick and painless death. She didn't consider what she was doing, trying instead to get it over with quickly and move on to other things.

Suddenly, she thrust forward with one hand and yanked back with the other, setting the killing in motion, but no killing occurred. The man did not die, nor did his neck break as intended. He simply was made to look left very quickly. Zora gulped and tried to go for another snap, but this time she hesitated. The weight of her actions had caught up to her and she remained frozen in place.

Zora's paralysis wore off at exactly the worst time. With her hands already around her neck, the knife-handed criminal willed his muscles into motion, wrenching himself out of her grasp and flipping over, slashing dangerously close to her throat with his glistening blades. Now, it was Zora who was paralysed, mostly by shock. The knife-handed man raked his fingers along the ground and he encroached on the stationary Zora, keeping his profile as low as he could. He suddenly sprung forward, rushing at Zora like an animal with claws bared.

Zora tried her best to block the oncoming onslaught of blades, but her defences were torn apart each time as she was forced back, metal claws inching closer and closer to her throat. The criminal ripped through one last time, a final attack, sure to kill, aimed right at her throat. Then, stillness.

Zora was spared at the last moment. A spear shot out from the dark, slicing cleanly through the head of the killer and tidily halting his momentum. Zora remained pressed up against the tree for a moment, until the spear retracted and Clay emerged from the nearby darkness, holding the weapon in one long distended grey arm.

"Th-thank you…" Zora murmured, relaxing against a tree.

"Hmph, I thought as much," Clay said, disappearing back into the foliage. Zora felt a sting of shame before she followed after him sheepishly.

The fighting was over, and Zora, Clay, Yi and Kojo (who had since come down from his tree-top safe spot) were back where the battle began, in the little clearing that they stopped to take a break in. Clay dumped the last of the bodies in a pile which the group stood around, observing their work.

"Well, that looks like all of them," Kojo said, observing the stack of bodies before him. He knelt down, examining each of the criminals in detail. Zora was bored, so she wandered off to the side slightly, bobbing her head up and down periodically as she daydreamed. She bobbed her head again, noticing something peculiar in the air. Then was a glint of light, attaching itself to seemingly nothing. As she moved her head from side to side, the light travelled up and down an unseeable length. Zora got a bad feeling all of a sudden.

"Guys, we should get out of here… Quick…" She whimpered, stepping back cautiously.

"What's the matter?" Kojo asked, taking a break from observing the bodies. There was a sudden snapping sound, followed by a slight whistling as an invisible force beset the phantoms. It felt like strings, too thin to be noticed, coming from all angles and tying them up helplessly in an instant.

"Would you look at that, they fell for the bait. That was some quick thinking, Blue," Came a voice from the canopy. Then a figure dropped down from the trees, followed by an entourage of level: Blue criminals. His clothes were tight, revealing leathers, along with a healthy amount of mismatched straps covering him. In his right hand, a bunch of white glittering string were pulled taught, the strings leading to the bindings which had enclosed around the Phantoms. On his neck was a collar, much like the others they had collected up to that point, but a modicum larger, and glowing yellow.

The Level: Yellow stood confidently over his captured prey. Clay was thrown into a temper by the man's smug exterior and primed himself to escape. He began to morph and lose his solidity.

"Clay, don't," Kojo whispered, not taking his eyes off the criminal.

"Why not?" Clay retorted, forming a halberd in his free hand.

"Not so fast, boy!" The level: Yellow cried. He pulled on the bundle of threads in his hand and the string tightened around Clay's neck, cutting through it like cheese wire. He solidified out of an instinctive desire to not get decapitated.

" _Crap… Does this guy know? If my head gets detached from my body, I'll lose all control over my quirk. I'll be no different from any other headless corpse,_ " Clay thought in a panicked frenzy. The strings tightened around the others as well, and they squirmed in stinging pain as the threads cut into their flesh.

"H-hey… boss… Somethin's funny…" A level: Blue said. The level: Yellow snapped at him.

"What the hell are you talking about? Questioning me? Do you wanna get tied up too?"

"Well… uh… no… of course not… it's just that… well… I noticed that… uh…" The Blue stammered ceaselessly, before receiving a swift slap from the Yellow.

"Out with it!" He yelled. The Blue receded into himself.

"Well boss, I just thought that the kids were meant to be travelling in groups of five, and I only count the Clay dude, the fish girl, the pretty boy and the black haired one…" He explained.

"Pfft… it's probably nothing to worry about. Maybe one of them died already?" The Yellow sneered dismissively.

"Yeah… probably… It's just I can't help but get this bad feelin'" The Blue rebutted.

"What kind of bad feeling?" The Yellow asked, just now getting to manhandling Clay for his token.

"This feelin' like were… forgettin' somethin'…" He mumbled.

A dark shape stirred in the bush behind the Level: Yellow, primed to strike. A dark shape with pure white hair. It sprung from it's hiding place like a snake, right behind the level: Yellow who remained oblivious to its presence. It had one bright red eye, with a swirling black hypnotic pattern that stirred constantly around in it. With a wave of its hands, the battle was over. There was an acidic hiss and a glint of light, before the Yellow's eyes rolled up into his skull. He toppled over, his legs falling out from under him, and his head falling from off his shoulders. The wound was clean, and it gently smoked with chemical smelling gas. The monster stood triumphant over its kill. It flicked down its eyepatch and became Gantai once again. Gantai tucked his acidic garrote back into its pocket and returned to his ranks.

"What… what the hell just happened?" Zora asked as the string fell away from her.

"Does it matter? We're safe now… It looks like the rest of the Blue's ran off," Kojo said, reclining against a tree.

"But… wasn't that weird? I mean, I remember looking at the Yellow, and then I remember seeing him on the ground with his head off his body… but… nothing in between?" Zora stammered, totally baffled.

"I wouldn't worry about it…" Gantai murmured.

"Hey Gantai, what was your quirk again?" Kojo asked.

* * *

 _ **Name:**_ _GANTAI KIJIMA_

 _ **Quirk:**_ _ATTENTION VECTOR_

 _Gantai's right eye has the property of diverting all attention away from him if it's visible. This effect manifests as an amnesia-like effect in the individuals around him. They will be unable to detect him, and any interaction between him and another person will be forgotten about almost instantly. This effect only persists for as long as Gantai's eye remains open or visible, so something, like blinking or wearing an eyepatch, can mitigate the effect._

* * *

"That… explains it… I guess…"

"Well then team, let's tally up the score, shall we? Let's gather those collars!" Kojo ordered.

"Who made you the boss?" Clay asked. Kojo gave him a certain look, a look that said "really?". Clay relented, picking a blue collar at his feet up from the ground. He gripped it and pulled up, and staggered at its surprising weight.

"This _… this thing was to weigh at least fifteen kilograms… why? It cant be that advanced can it?_ " Clay though, tossing the collar into a pile with the other Blue collars that they collected. Kojo strode over to the corpse of the Level: Yellow and grabbed the yellow collar that lay by the headless corpse of their attacker and yanked at it again and again, but it wouldn't budge at all.  
"What the hell does this thing weigh?!" Kojo spluttered as he strained to carry it breathlessly. Clay pushed him out of the way and he stumbled, wiping some sweat from his brow and taking a deep breath. Clay rubbed his hands together and knelt down with perfect form to attempt to lift the thing. Yet still, even he struggled to do so, eventually morphing his hands around it so that he could get enough grip to hoist it onto his shoulders.

"It's… at least forty-five kilograms… It couldn't have weighed this much while it was on, could it?" Clay huffed, tossing the thing into the mud.

"Oh.. oh no…" Kojo stammered. He had been thinking, and now he regretted it, but he still decided to share his revelation with his teammates. "If one yellow collar weighs forty-five kilograms… and its only three points on its own… You'd need at least three of the forty-five-kilogram collars and one of them fifteen-kilogram collars to make ten points… that's one hundred and fifty kilograms per person!"

"A hundred and fifty?! But, the world record for quirkless weightlifting is only two hundred and eighty kilograms!" Zora exclaimed.

"That's one hundred and fifty kilograms each… that's seven hundred and fifty kilograms total… Not even I can lift that much…" Clay said in a hushed, serious tone.

"Then… How are we gonna…" Zora murmured, her mind buzzing.

"Guys… I think we've been duped," Kojo said, sitting down by a tree and staring into its canopy.

"How so?" Clay asked, remaining relatively cool.

"We've been duped into thinking we have a choice in this exam," Kojo continued. His eyes became darker and intense. "When Ms Du'sang said we shouldn't go after the red collars if we were faint of heart, what she meant is that we should just fail," He declared.

"I don't understand…" Zora murmured.

"Zora, with collars this heavy, it's simply not possible to carry enough points with you to pass the exam If you go for blues and yellows. That leaves the reds, and you only need one of them," Kojo elaborated. "This test is more sophisticated than we thought,"

"So… the exam was about the Level: Reds from the very start. These weaklings we're just meant to weed out the boys from the men," Clay huffed. "That's pretty devious, isn't it?" He continued.

"So… what you're saying is…" Zora was shaking, fear overcoming her from what she knew was coming.

"Yes, we're going after a Level: Red. We've got no choice," Kojo said, standing up slowly.

"C-come on guys… did you see the level: Reds? Just their mugshots freaked me out too much. Maybe we're out of our depth here, shouldn't he just throw in the towel?" Zora stammered, trying to worm her way out of it. Clay gave her a disapproving glare, spitting at the very notion. Kojo, on the other hand, was far more understanding.

"Zora, if it was your decision alone, then I would respect it. But you are not in the company of a group of people who are inclined to 'throw in the towel'," He said sternly.

"I… I… I don't…" Zora stammered, looking back from where they came. Clay put his hand on her shoulder and gripped tightly.

"Thinking of giving up hmm? Running back with your tail between your legs? Pathetic," He hissed with disdain. Zora's fist tightened up. She didn't like the idea of fighting any of the level: Reds but being insulted like that to her face caused something inside her to snap. She batted Clay's hand off her shoulder.

"Whatever I'll go with you if you stop talking shit," She snapped back, crossing her arms. "But, how are we gonna find them?" Zora inquired. "I mean, they could be anywhere in this huge place, there's only four of them and we've already wasted so much time on Kojo's bunk plan," She continued.

"We could split up, cover more ground that way," Clay offered, stepping away from Zora and towards Kojo.

"And take on the Level: Red one or two at a time?! Clay, I know you think highly of yourself but that's not feasible," Kojo snapped.

"Complaining without offering an alternative solution is called whining, Kojo," Clay growled.

"Then it's a good thing I've got an alternative," Kojo stated. He took a pin, seemingly from nowhere, and used it to prick himself in the wrist. The wound was just big enough for a globule of blood to accumulate at the site. Looking satisfied, Kojo grabbed a blade of grass from the forest floor and dipped it in the blood. Zora watched as the grass seemed to melt down and reform into something else altogether, something which grew rapidly once it took root in Kojo's wound. It was a long, rose-like vine, covered in small spines and topped with red petals as well as what looked like a mutated stigma which pointed outward. The vine waved around in the air, probing around.

"This is the _Blood-seeking_ vine, I've designed it to function autonomously. It can sniff out blood at distances of up to three kilometres, and will relentlessly be attracted to it's nearest source. If the Level: Reds are as strong as we've been made to believe, then there should be a lot of blood around them," Explained Kojo.

"Wait, you design your own plants?" Zora asked.

"Duh,"

"But, what about the blood we spilt here, wouldn't it be attracted to that first?" Asked Yi, looking over the stack of dead bodies.

"You would think as much, wouldn't you? But don't worry, that acid stuff Gantai used it still hanging around in the air. The vine should be repelled by it," Kojo said, scooping the plant out of the dirt. It swung towards the scene of the battle that had just occurred, undulated strangely and turned in another direction altogether.

"So, this thing should lead us to the nearest, biggest massacre, and if the hype it to be believed then a level: Red shouldn't be far from there, right?" Asked Clay, Kojo nodded as he walked along, being pulled the blood-seeking vine. With no real options available, the phantoms followed Kojo's lead deeper into the forest, wandering once again in the darkness.

The vine led to a place where the trees thinned out and the ground turned from mulch to gravel. Things became taller and greyer, but paradoxically much better lit, despite still qualifying as dim by sensible standards. It was the industrial area, right at the edge of the faux environment. They came to the first building in a great row of identical concrete squares.

"This is it," Kojo said, yanking back his hand. "This is where the Blood-seeking Vine is leading us,"

"This is where it smells the massacre?" Gantai asked, receding into himself timidly. The great, dark building loomed overhead, casting its shadow over the group forebodingly. Kojo inspected the vine. It bobbed up and down, tugging at his wrist as it did so. It continually circled around, eventually closing in a distinct direction. When the vine had settled, it quite clearly pointed to the top floor of the faux warehouse.

"So, its up there then?" Asked Clay. Kojo reluctantly nodded as he fiddled with the plant's calibration, moving it around and watching it readjust. "Looks like," He said, squinting at it and cocking his head.

"That… looks like a lot of stairs…" Zora groaned lazily.

"Hey! Guys, look!" Yi squealed, drawing everyone's attention. She had wandered away from the group and seemed to have found something of interest. The others caught up with her.

"This window… it's been shattered," Clay said, looking at the area of interest which Yi had drawn their attention to. "From the outside, by the looks of it. And based upon the footprints in the immediate area, about five people went through,"

"Excellent work, detective," Kojo said sarcastically. Clay sneered at him. "There appears to be some blood on the window here, I guess one of them cut their ankle on the way through," Kojo continued. He brought his vine up to the small pool of blood that dripped onto the window-sill, plucked it out of the small wound on his wrist and let it take root before hopping through the breach. "Oh… my…" He said, his words echoing from inside the concrete chamber.

"What is it?" Clay yelled in after Kojo. Gantai grew more nervous. The teens leapt through into the building one at a time, being as stealthy as they possibly could. They each covered their mouths when they saw the carnage that lay before them.

A small trail of blood led from the window to around halfway through the room, where it appears a fight began. Past that, the room was littered with dust and debris from destroyed pillars and the like, and splatterings of still just-about fresh blood across the walls and floor. The walls themselves were in no better shape. Paint flaked off of them, and stone appeared surgically peeled off in a series of uniform damages that spread out and curled around up the first set of stairs. Zora ran her fingers over the nearly destroyed wall.

"What kind of ability could have caused damage like this?" She wondered.

"What does it matter," Clay scoffed. "I'm more interested in finding the source,"

"Agreed," Kojo said, and the group pressed forward up the stairs, some more reluctantly than others. Kojo led the pack, with Yi hopping not far behind. Gantai trailed at the back, neurotically clicking his fingers in an irregular pattern as the remnants of the gruesome battle became more and more intense. Then, they came across the first body.

It had been damaged beyond recognition, limbs mangled and broken, hair and clothes drenched in blood and skin flayed from each exposed part. What remained of his features were gaunt and pale, though through the injury a hint of fear and agony could be detected. The boy died slow, it appeared.

"That's… not very promising," Kojo understated. Suddenly, he felt a prodding at his heels. He looked down to see the little vine he had planted earlier, which wormed its way across the floor to the bounty of life-blood before it.

"It must've followed the trail of the fight up here," Yi postulated, kneeling over the cadaver as the vine fed upon it and grew. She didn't seem particularly phased by the grim sight. Zora, on the other hand, was fighting back vomit, while Gantai refused to even look at the sorry sight.

"We should… keep moving…" Clay said, everyone agreed. They got about halfway up the next staircase before they heard it.

"Hey, do you guys hear humming—" Yi was interrupted when Clay's hand shot out and covered her mouth to silence her. He brought one finger over his mouth and gestured upwards.

"He's above us," Clay mouthed silently. Everyone stopped, totally stunned. This far up, it appears that the battle had damaged some of the building's electrics, with the only lights flickering every so often and going dark the rest of the time. so the group was left in nigh complete darkness and total silence.

"That's him, isn't it… the level: red?" Zora whispered. Kojo nodded, then grinned.

"Yes… its time we went up and met him. If we're quiet, we might be able to get the element of surprise, after all, he seems…" Kojo paused, for long enough to hear a horrific sound of bone-crunching and flesh ripping, before a light cackle and a return to the humming. "Busy… with something…"

The phantoms proceeded up the final stairway skittishly, coming to the top floor, where the horrific sounds had seemingly originated.

They huddled up at the side of the door, just barely remaining in cover. Kojo peeked out from the side of the doorway. It appeared that the level: Red was turned away from them, crouched down over another victim of his. The stringy, corded muscles which his arms were laden with flexed strongly as he tore the poor boy apart. His face expressed what appeared to be joy, but the expression fought against the metal wires that wrapped around his head, holding open his pupils and in place his teeth. He dove into the cavity of the boy's stomach once more, pulling out what appeared to be a token, stained with bloody bile.

" _You thought you were being clever, didn't you? Sshalowing your token like that… Well, you weren't clever enough for me…"_ Chided Pierre, wiping the token on his pant leg before sliding it into a little slot on the side of his bulky collar. As it slid into the slot, there was a satisfying clunk and an electronic ringing sound. " _And that makessh five…"_ Pierre hummed, swinging his head from side to side.

Kojo looked closer, inspecting the details of the environment (for strategic purposes, of course) when something peculiar about this particular body became apparent. It appeared that one arm had been spared the brunt of the Red's zeal, as the skin over it was mostly intact. As a result, its markings and characteristics were clearly visible. The skin was tan and smooth, with a tattoo running around it in a spiral pattern. A Dragon, no less, with the design culminating at the shoulder with the beast's head.

"Wait… just a minute now… isn't that…" Kojo pondered as the realisation came to him. The body type was certainly the same, and he found it unlikely that more examinees than those five had such a tattoo.

"Clay, it's Tarkus," Kojo murmured. Clay's eyebrows shot up.

"Who?" He whispered.

"You know, that guy who beat you up earlier—"

"Yes. I recall. I was just making sure, there's no need to—"

" _My oh my… what'ssh thissh?_ " Came the voice of the Peeler from the next room. Kojo's blood turned to ice. He looked down at his feet. The vine from earlier that he had planted at the windowsill and that had followed them up the stairs was now wrapping around his feet, past the threshold of the door and reached all the way to the Peeler himself. With dread in his heart, he turned the corner to see the little vine nipping at the murderer's heels.

"Fuck," He said out loud. The Peeler's gaze turned to their position, and he started chuckling.

" _Hmmmmm… it ssheemssh that I have sshome peeping tomssh on my handssh…_ " He mused. Clay cuffed Kojo in the backside of the head, and he stumbled forward into plain view.

"Well, um, hello there, I'm Kojo," Kojo said.

" _My oh my, how polite. Allow me then to introduce myself in turn. I'm Pierre, Johanne Pierre, though some call me 'The Peeler',"_ said Pierre.

* * *

 _ **Name:**_ _JOHANNE 'THE PEELER' PIERRE_

 _ **Quirk:**_ _PEELING_

 _Each of Pierre's fingers and toes are tipped with a sharp, grey pad. When anything comes into contact with the pad, Pierre can activate his quirk to disassemble the object, one thin layer at a time. This has the effect of 'peeling' anything he touches in a fashion similar to the skin from an orange or paint from a wall. Though not as destructive as some of the other Level: Red's abilities, it causes excessive bleeding and an unusually high amount of sharp pain making Pierre just as dangerous as the rest of them._

* * *

"This is my troupe," Kojo offered. He stood to the side, beckoning the rest of his troupe outwards. They all gave him dirty looks as they crossed over the threshold. The troupe stood in a line, facing off against the killer.

" _Ssho, you'll be my new opponent'ssh then?_ " Pierre asked, standing tall.

"Seems that way," Kojo said, hands behind his back, standing casually. He looked over his 'troops'. The fish girl at the end of the line seemed to be shaking, from fear, he assumed.

"Zora, that was your name wasn't it?" Kojo asked. Zora was sort of pleased that he was paying any attention to her, but also sort of offended he didn't remember her name.

"Y-yeah… t-that's right. What's the m-matter?" She replied, staying focused on the super-criminal that was staring them down.

"Oh, your hands are shaking, I was just wondering if anything was the matter," Kojo said.

"Well, I'm just a little bit terrified at the moment… and—"

"Don't be," Kojo interjected. Zora looked up at him. "I have a plan," He grinned. "Everyone! Formation!" He called out. The rest of the Phantoms stood around for a moment, not quite knowing how to respond.

"Do we have a formation?" Clay asked.

"Yes. I thought I went over this with you," Kojo snapped back. Clay shook his head.

"I never heard anything about a formation…" Zora interjected. Kojo sighed.

"Very well…" He began. "Clay! In front of me! Yi! Behind me! Zora and Gantai, you flank! Understood?" Kojo barked.

"Fine by me," Clay grumbled.

"Why do I have to be in the back?" Moaned Yi. Gantai had no hesitation in assuming his position, with Zora lagging just slightly behind him.

" _Oh, what'ssh thissh?_ " Pierre wondered, stepping away from his previous victims.

"This is what's called a strategy, and we're gonna use it to kill you," Kojo said confidently. "Ready, everyone?" He asked. There was no verbal response, but his question was felt. Zora assumed a combat stance, Gantai flicked his eyepatch up, and Yi held back her murderous urges for long enough for Kojo to order the charge forward. The phantom's advanced forward at blistering pace, with an unspoken understanding of purpose, they enclosed around the level: Red, all fear forgotten for that moment in time.

Time seemed to slow down, and Pierre's face turned to panic for one moment as the pincer closed in around him. He reached out frantically towards Zora, towards her antennae.  
"Just like I thought, foolproof," Zora thought. Pierre's arm reached out further as Zora inches closer and closer in the slowed time. Then, it turned. The strike went right under Zora's antennae and was struck with dreadful shock.

" _What? How did he—"_ Were the only thoughts running across her mind before Pierre stiff-armed her in the face. Her body wrapped around his arm from the force as his fingers clasped around her face, causing the skin to fall away and peel back. Zora was struck with an indescribable stinging pain as she was held aloft, being released only as Pierre gave her a solid kick in the stomach, releasing her face and sending her flying across the room before he turned his attention to his other assailant.  
Pierre held one finger out towards Gantai. Their eyes met, and Gantai felt freakish dread crawl over him.  
" _Don't think I'd forgotten about you, little one,"_  
"But… My... Quirk..."  
Pierre thrust his one finger forward like a rapier, and it snapped straight through his taught garrotte wire. Pierre's attack pressed forwards while Gantai helplessly fell onto it. The killer's finger made contact with Gantai's neck, upturning the skin and beginning a torrent of blood which intensified as Pierre dig deeper and deeper, impaling the boy's neck, and holding him aloft from the wound.  
" _If I'm not misshtaken, there sshould be an important artery around here sshomewhere_..." Pierre mused, his finger squirming around, exploring the wound which he had made.

"H-how did you… My quirk… Zora's…" Spluttered Gantai.

" _Let me guesssh, it's one of those pesshky mind-altering abilitiessh, right? I've never given them much credence. They never quite worked the sshame on me you sshee, sshomething to do with the way that my brain issh wired. I don't know what the doctorssh called it, but they wanted to put me in an asshylum for a while. I'll tell you what though, you gave me a mighty headache, you little sshhit,"_

Pierre was interrupted when Clay's arm shot forward on a cascade of clay. His fist colliding with Pierre's face and warping the brace that wrapped around it. Gantai fell to the floor as Pierre reeled from the force of Clay's attack. Applying pressure to his neck, Gantai crawled back pitifully.  
" _You sshould wait your turn, boy…_ " Pierre grumbled, facing his new adversary. Pierre struck out suddenly, aiming his attack around Clay's defences, it crashed into his face, digging deep into his soft flesh. Pierre cackled triumphantly, but his feelings of victory were short lived. Clay's eyes focused in on him, glaring with contempt as his flesh turned grey and enclosed around Pierre's fist in an instant, trapping it within. Pierre pulled back at his hand violently trying to wrench it out of Clay's grasp. Clay formed his halberd in one hand and thrust it out at the helpless Pierre. The killer's body just barely pivoted out of the way, leaving a deep scratch in his flank. Pierre hissed at the pain, unfurling his fingers within him and riping swaths of clay away as he pulled harder and harder. Thin flakes of Clay fell to the floor as Pierre finally pulled his hand free of Clay's grasp. His face reformed, as impervious as ever, with a disapproving glare.  
Pierre was flung into a rage, attacking with relentless force and furious speed as Clay remained perfectly still, weathering the storm with perfect composure. When Pierre was done, strips of peeled-off clay lay at his opponent's feet in small heaps, but the boy hadn't budged or even changed his expression. He scooped what parts of him were on the floor up, adding them back to his mass while Pierre recovered, growling between breaths.  
"I wouldn't expect a degenerate like you to know this Pierre," Hissed Clay, standing firm against Pierre's imposing presence. "But I was once a renowned vigilante on the streets of Venice. I've fought with hundreds of criminals with quirks stronger than yours, and they weren't even able to touch me. Before your attacks even land my body has been trained to instinctively morph into clay and absorb the impact. To put it simply Pierre, you can't hurt me,"  
There was a long pause from Pierre.  
" _Amorphique'..."_ He said finally.  
"Excuse me?"  
" _Usshed to be the Twelfth-ranked pro hero in all of France. Died around... ooh... eight or nine yearssh ago it mussht've been now, on Valentine'ssh Day no lesssh. I killed him, naturally. He had a power quite sshimilar to yours, although it wasn't clay he turned into, it wassh... hmm... it was cream or gum or sshome other sshuch sshtupid sshhit_ ,"  
"What's your point? You'd better not be comparing me to some two-bit pro hero..."  
" _Well... do you want to know how I did it? Kuhuhuhu... The man had sshuch long, pretty hair. A bit like yourssh now that I think about it..._ " Pierre cackled softly. Clay glowered in disgust.  
"Fine then, if you're so confident, then why don't just finish me off? Or are you just bluffing, you disgusting worm,"

"Clay, don't provoke him!" Kojo warned.

"Kojo, shut up," Clay growled. "I'm tired of you getting in my way. I'm going to show this maggot his place…" He continued, stepping up to Pierre.

" _Kuhuhu… Have it your way… Clay…_ " Pierre cooed, before unleashing his finishing blow.

" _A swing to the face... what does this guy think he's playing at? No point even blocking it_ ," Clay thought, standing steadfast against the killer. The arc of Pierre's attack suddenly changed, jutting off in contradictory directions. His hand curled up to Clay 's sleek blond hair and delicately, suddenly, yanked but a single strand from the boys head. That miniscule amount of pain snuck right under Clay's trained reflexes and triggered a primal human instinct within him. A reactive wave of shock travelled through his body, rendering him totally rigid for all of a millisecond, more than enough time for Pierre. He swung out, striking Clay in the face and for the first time connecting with flesh. The killer's quirk flayed the skin from his features, and the destructive force of his swing threw Clay's head backwards. Blood cascaded down Clay's face as his mind caught up with what had just happened.

"He… he… how could he…" Clay muttered incessantly. He felt the warm red fluid flowing over his face, his pride shattered by such a simple manoeuvre. The only word for it was defeat, he succumbed in his heart. Pierre tackled him, rushing forward with Clay hoisted over his shoulders. He gripped Clay by the waist, twirling around with him like a dancer while cackling with glee. He released his grip.

As Clay travelled through the air, time around him seemed to slow to a crawl and he pondered his downfall.

" _The Danger-Sense I've built up over a lifetime… My impenetrable defence… shattered by something so simple as a flinch? Disgrace… Disgrace…_ " Clay's thoughts twirled around in his mind, repeating the same word over and over. There was nothing now, the sound of the shattering window was dull and empty and the immense darkness of the cave's roof obscured his vision. Nought could be seen, save for the shards of glass that fell with him, and the droplets of his blood which seemed to float, suspended in the air. Clay disappeared into the darkness.

Back on the top floor of the faux-warehouse scenario that the remainder of Troupe: Phantom found themselves in, Kojo Kiken's mind also twirled around, a single word repeated over and over.

" _Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck… fuck,_ " He thought. His impenetrable smug smile was wavering now, while Pierre's giggling self hung out of the broken window, observing Clay's fateful descent with rare joy in his heart. Kojo frantically observed his surroundings, looking for anything he could use. He was down to his last man, or more accurately, his last woman. Yi looked to him, maybe for guidance, maybe for approval, but at his vaguest gesture, she never-the-less rushed Pierre anyway.

" _Ssho… thissh issh your lassht basshtion, eh? Issh there a good reasshon that sshee had to sshtay back thissh whole time, rather than come at me at once with the otherssh?_ " Pierre inquired.

"Indeed, Pierre. She's unstable, just like you. I'm hoping that holding her back like that has tempered her killing intent. Then maybe she'll be able to match you," Kojo said. He exuded confidence, but in reality, he was faltering. He didn't want to have to resort to using this plan, but seeing his allies so tidily defeated one by one made him desperate.

" _Interesshting…_ _Let'ssh sshee how it workssh in practice, sshall we?_ " Yelled Pierre, rushing forward to the on-coming Yi.

The two met, clashing in the middle, struggling against the force of each other's push with their fingers meeting one to one. Yi's body heated up with a screaming hot whistle until it glowed white hot. Pierre however, wasn't phased by the incredible pain it must've caused, because he just pushed harder and harder against it. His quirk activated, ripping the skin away from Yi's fingertips. Blood began to gush out of them as the killer dug deeper and deeper into her flesh, where the heat was less and less. The blood spilt across her hands, quenching what head was left that she had built up. Her face grew more and more panicked as she lost more and more ground.

Pierre saw his opening. He pulled his hands back and the force of Yi pushing caused her to fall forward. Pierre brought his knee up at speed as Yi fell onto it, and they crashed together sending the girl stumbling backwards.

" _Sshome plan you had there, boy_ ," Pierre grinned as Kojo's last line of defence fell before him.

Yi collapsed to the floor, clutching her injured hands and she curled up in pain. She was done for. Pierre gave her a brief look as if to say 'I'll deal with you later', and then moved on to his final obstacle.

" _Ssho… It'ssh jussht you and me now boy… I wonder why it issh that you haven't attacked me up until now?_ " Pierre asked, turning to the last man standing, Kojo. Kojo took a deep breath through clenched teeth.

"I've been… Thinking," He said, carefully selecting each of his words. "About how best to go about taking you down," He continued. "Coming up with something on the fly isn't really my style, but you've forced my hand,"

" _oh?_ "

"Yes, I've long since ruled out a straight fight, seeing as how you've systematically eliminated each of my carefully selected soldiers. You truly have the mind of a predator, and the impregnable will of a madman,"

" _A sshentiment that warmssh my heart_ …" Pierre grinned, giving a slight curtsey. Kojo began to circle around the stationary Pierre.

"Yes, well, now I've been trying a slightly different approach," Kojo hummed, his eyes narrowing as Pierre sized him up, scanning for the perfect moment to break his spirit

" _And that would be?"_ Pierre asked, cracking his knuckles one by one.

"Well, I've been trying to distract you while I set up an inescapable trap for a while now, and it seems to be working," Kojo grinned. The Peeler raised one inquisitive eyebrow, looking left and right. "Below you, dumbass" Kojo insulted. Pierre's eyes traced downwards and around.

" _All I sshee is corpsshes…_ " He hissed.

"That's right, corpses. All around you no less, and now there's just one more ingredient…" Kojo hummed, taking a small leather pouch from his pocket. Pierre looked frantically all around him, a ring of bloody corpses surrounded him, with ripped off chunks filling gaps between. They hadn't been like that before, had the boy moved them? The killer diverted his focus back to his opponent, just in time to see him empty the contents of the pouch into his hand. It was a light yellow powder, but Pierre didn't get much chance to look at it before he blew it away, a glittering yellow cloud forming and quickly dissipating as the powder spread through the air.

"Pierre, I don't suppose it's a good idea to give you information about my quirk, but I feel like monologuing, so what the hell," Began Kojo. Pierre's nose started to sting, his eyes watered. This feeling was familiar to him, from when he had decided to stalk the rural country that one summer. Just what was in that bag? "You see, for my quirk to activate, I need 3 things. The first is blood, the more the better, and I have it in spades. The second is focus, if I stop thinking about it then my quirk cant activate, and if im not constantly thinking then I can't control it at all. Thirdly, and finally, is a plant-matter base. You see Pierre, now that the contents of that bag have spread all throughout the room, the whole thing is a 'plant matter base', which means I have everything I need,"

" _Pollen… Pollen! Issh that is?_ " Pierre cried.

"Bingo,"

Kojo snapped his fingers, and there was a cracking, ripping sound from each of the surrounding body-parts. They each erupted in unison, blossoming with bunches of thorny vines which whipped around in the air before converging and diving straight towards Pierre. He thought about dodging, but he was surrounded on all sides, with nowhere to dodge to. The bunches unfurled like grasping hands and they coiled around his limbs, digging their spikes into his skin. He thrashed around violently, tearing apart every vine he could get his hands on, but they overcame him. "Say your prayers… scum…" Kojo growled, his eyes narrowing. His fists clenched tighter and tighter as the vines wrapped themselves around his opponent, cutting ever deeper. Pierre took a deep breath, then spoke.

" _Boy… there issh method to the way that I kill, I'm sshure you've noticed…_ " He began.

"What are you talking for? You should be focused on not dying right now," Kojo retorted.

" _You sshee… there issh a moment that I look for, a brief opening where it is most easshy to land a finisshhing blow. If you catch your opponent off guard or gain a brief upper-hand, then for a sshplit-sshecond they may believe that all hope is lossht, that I am sshimply too sshtrong to overcome. Of course with most fighter typessh thissh thought getssh pusshhed to the back of the mind assh fassht assh it arrived, but what if you were to attack in that brief window? I'll tell you, Kojo… that worssht fear of their'ssh become reality. For that brief moment, you are invincible and unsshtoppable and can kill without resshtraint. This method hasshn't failed me thussh far, and I don't think it ever will…"_

"Why are you telling me this? Why won't you just die?"

" _Oh_ … _I wash jussht wondering…. What would happen if I were to esshcape this predicament_ …" He said, breaking the tense silence.

"What?"

" _If I were to reversshe this entire sshituation I find mysshelf in…. what would you do?_ " Pierre asked, snickering as he squirmed inside his bindings. Kojo tried to ignore him, stay singular, stay focused, but Pierre kept babbling. " _Would you panic? Would fit spell your defeat, would you just… die?"_

"Shut up, will you," Kojo demanded.

" _What sshay we find out?"_ Pierre cackled. He threw himself into motion, swaying his left leg up and around. At the peak of his motion, the delicate leather shoe that Pierre wore was flung off his foot at speed, aimed right at Kojo. Kojo was shocked for the split second he had before the shoe struck him squarely between the eyes. His head was flung back, yanking the rest of the body along with it, and just when Kojo was done stumbling and he thought he had found his balance again, Pierre hopped onto his other foot, pivoting his bound body and kicking out with his other leg. The second shoe came off just like the other, striking Kojo in the stomach this time. A surge of bile came up his throat and he doubled over. His focus lost, the vines around Kojo loosened their grip, giving him enough room to tear his way out. The pollen, he had to get away from the pollen. He brought his bare foot down, slamming it against the smooth stone floor and cutting swaths away from it, grinning madly.

" _I'll sshee you sshoon, friend!_ " He cried, disappearing into a dark hole cut from the ground below him.

Kojo spent some time on the floor after that.

"Aw… Shit…" He sighed, covering his face. Before shame had much of a chance to set in, there was a familiar heavy set of footsteps heard slowly making their way up the staircase leading into the battlefield. Clay emerged from the around the corner, limping and looking haggard, but otherwise uninjured.

"Clay, glad to see you're not dead," Said Kojo, a hint of joy prevailing over the sound of defeat in his tone.

"As if I would ever let a degenerate like that kill me," Spat Clay in reply.

"You almost did," Kojo grinned teasingly. Clay grumbled at him aggressively. "Not that it matters anymore," He continued, resting his head on his hands. "Our man's probably long gone by now, and there's not much hope of us catching up to him,"

"No," Zora whimpered, her voice weak from the beating she took. "I can still fell him down there, squirming around like a freak. I think he expects us to follow him,"

"Then why don't we?" Asked Clay, proceeding to the hole in the ground.

"No," Kojo hollered, giving Clay pause. "None of you are in a condition to fight, just stay back here and be sure not to die," He said, standing himself up slowly. The rest of the group looked at him in shock.

"Bullshit, I can fight, he barely touched me," Clay sneered, offended at his partner's suggestion.

"Clay, he threw you out of a window," Kojo jeered. Clay grimaced at the recollection. "Besides, he's hurt your ego, which makes you the most injured out of any of us,"

Clay's silence spoke volumes.

"You're pretty nonchalant about this Kojo," Said Zora as she pulled Yi's still body to the rest of the group.

"I try to be," Kojo replied.

"Well, I don't mind staying back, and I think Clay can swallow his pride long enough to not get himself killed," Zora mediated. Clay moped, sitting down with his legs crossed.

"Do what you want," He said dismissively.

"Good," Kojo said, stepping up to the hole. He looked down into its dark depths and took a deep breath in preparation.

"Everyone, when next you see me, we'll be full-fledged assassins," Declared Kojo.

"Or you'll be dead," Clay said.

"Or I'll be dead," Kojo repeated, closing his eyes and walking right over and down into the dark hole in the floor.

 _Pierre was a sickly child. He was the only child of a poor single mother and grew up in an apartment building in France, Paris to be specific. Since birth, doctors have told him he was defective and misshapen, wrong somehow. He never understood, but that wouldn't stop them. Pierre was put on all sorts of medicines and forced into strange metal apparatus to fix his broken body. His horrific appearance was the result of this treatment, and of his condition. The endless medical treatment and social stigma she dealt with put a huge strain on Pierre's mother, who became horrified by him, and came to view him like a leech and a monster. She locked him up in the house all day every day and spent her life working just to get enough money to survive._

 _Pierre would sit in the kitchen all, sometimes doing nothing, sometimes peeling potatoes (the only thing he was any good for if his mother was to be believed) and sometimes resting on the counter with the window open and the radio tuned to the news station at all times. He heard all day every day, stories of crime, death and murder which took root in his mind as he shut himself off from the world to avoid the depressing monotony of his situation._

 _One day, Pierre was brought back into the world that he had drowned out. The most amazing smell had come across his nose, which wafted up from the apartment below. The smell caused the most peculiar feeling too well up inside Pierre. It was the strongest joy that he had ever felt in his life. He chased it, one half due instinct and a half for a desire to escape his life as it was._

 _Despite his limited motor ability (due of course to the grotesque braces across his body), he managed the precarious journey to the balcony below his own apartment, and to the source of the alluring scent._

 _The apartment below Pierre's was owned by a bitter old woman who was abandoned by the world. There she lay, on her rocking chair, surrounded by a mound of filth, dead and rotting. This was a golden opportunity for the boy, perhaps he would try something he'd heard about on the radio? His quirk seemed suited to it after all…_

 _Pierre was found three days later in the very same apartment with what remained of the old woman's body, by the landlord no less, investigating complaints of a horrific stench emanating from the apartment. The foul old landlord became the Peeler's first victim, with Pierre's own mother being the second._

 _Pierre ran away that night. As he stood over the brutalised body of his cruel and unfeeling mother, he heard police sirens and did the only thing that made sense to him. Pierre spent the rest of his life in the dark underbelly of Parisian villain society, ever chasing the brief high that he got from taking a life in the most brutal and grotesque fashions he could manage. This eventually landed him in a high-security prison where he awaited his own execution for six years until the day he was at last approached by a scout of the Zoldyque academy, which led him to this moment, the fight of his life…_

Kojo landed heavily in the room below. He found himself in darkness. The room had been rendered pitch black, most likely by the electrical damage, but this was no time to be thinking of such a thing. Kojo calmed himself, preparing for an attack to come from any angle. Then, there was a sound from the blackness.

" _I sshee you've come for sshome more… Jussht like I thought,_ " Pierre's disembodied voice cackled gleefully.

"But of course, I'm not giving up just yet,"

" _But what makessh you think the resshult will be any different?_ " Asked Pierre.

"A turn of fortune," Kojo replied simply.

" _Fortune? What could you mean by that? Certainly not that you intend to beat me by getting lucky?_ " Pierre laughed.

"Not at all Pierre. I've already gotten lucky," Retorted Kojo.

" _Elaborate…_ " Snapped Pierre, his tone becoming suddenly serious.

"Pierre, you told me about how you kill earlier. How you wait for the perfect opportunity to strike when for a moment it seems like all hope is lost,"

" _That'ssh right…_ "

"Well Pierre, that moment has already passed, but unfortunately you chose to escape rather than finish me off," Kojo bragged.

" _Hmm… no matter, there'll be another…_ "

"Now that I'm wise to your tricks? I'm shocked that you think so low of me Pierre. Well, not that I'm, surprised. Your abilities are above average, but your judgement is about on par with any run-of-the-mill murderer," Kojo postulated.

" _Kojo, do you want to know why I kill?_ " Pierre asked, his voice untraceable in the darkness.

"Not particularly, but I think you're going to tell me anyway," He replied.

" _Because Kojo, it's the only thing that ever made me feel good…_ " Pierre began. " _When I came into thissh world, I wassh a beassht… only capable of feeling pain and sshadness… But when I firssht took a life, I felt joy. Kojo, can you really blame me? Can you blame me for hating thissh world that sshaid I sshhould never be happy? That I'm monsshtroussh for even wanting sshuch a thing? Fuck that world! It desshervessh to die, and when I get out, I'm going to be the one to kill it! And I'll feel joy, all the while!_ " Pierre ranted furiously, his booming voice echoing throughout the empty concrete room.

"Pierre, that's a load of bullshit," Kojo spat.

" _Don't you take the moral highground with me, I desshpise that sshhit…_ "

"I would never think of such a thing, Pierre. I'm a killer too, after all,"

" _Ssho what'ssh the issue?_ " Pierre asked, growing frustrated.

"Pierre, what you call a curse doesn't sound like anything of the sort to me," Declared Kojo. "It sounds like conviction!"

" _What?! What are you babbling about?_ " Pierre cried.

"Imagine where you could've been Pierre… if only you'd killed the right people…" Kojo scolded.

" _I don't… Undersshtand…_ " The killer babbled.

"You could've been a hero, a saviour. But as it is now, you've spoiled your gift on your selfish hedonism. You've wasted your life, and now you're just another ugly person in this world full to the brim with ugliness," proclaimed Kojo. "Pierre, I don't expect you to care, but do you know why I kill?" Kojo asked. The killer emerged from the darkness before the boy, his eyes contorted in rage, his fist clenched.

" _Why?_ " He roared.

"It's because I've made it my mission in life to fix this broken existence. I'm going to make the world beautiful again! One dead body at a time!" Exclaimed Kojo.

" _I'm done talking! Let'ssh get to the killing, sshhall we? Kuhuhuu!_ " Pierre cackled nefariously, a bloodthirsty madness overtaking him, he charged at Kojo, striking wildly. Kojo was forced back by the onslaught, barely dodging out of the way of each increasingly quick attack on instinct alone. He searched for an opening, any opportunity to counterattack, he saw one, in the form of glistening blood on Pierre's waist. Between attacks, Kojo lightly tapped the wound in Pierre's flank, causing throned vines to burst forth, but Pierre cut them away in the blink of an eye. His fury unmatched, he unleashed hell on Kojo, slashing and tearing away strips of flesh like a man possessed. He laid a final blow into Kojo's gut, causing him to collapse to the floor.

Pierre stood over his helpless prey. Giggling uncontrollably.

" _It appearshh that the winner of thissh classh of ideologiessh hassh been decided, Kojo_ ," He said, preparing his killing blow.

"Perhaps… perhaps…" Kojo muttered weakly. "But still, one question remains,"

" _Oh, and what would that be?_ "

"Pierre… what would you do… if I were to reverse this whole situation?" Kojo sputtered sarcastically. Pierre scoffed at the very thought, but the thought of such a thing soon sowed seeds of doubt in his mind. There was a craft glint in Kojo's eyes. Was he planning something? The façade of confidence fell away from Pierre, and his mind began to race.

" _No. it could'nt be, could it? He usshed my own killing insshtinct againssht me, and drew me into a trap?_ " Pierre's mind twirled around, he brought his hand up to his chin, fear washing over him for the first time in years. A minute sound in the void of blackness that the two fought in brought Pierre from his contemplation back into his grim reality, the sound of blood, dripping on the floor. " _No! He…_ "

"What's the matter, Pierre? Seen what's coming?" Kojo croaked smugly. The realisation struck Pierre like a storm cloud, encircling him and at last shattering his spirit.

" _You… you… Did you take my hit on purposshe? Jussht so you could fuel your quirk?!"_ Pierre cried into the dark. He leapt away frantically, but it was too late for him. For a moment, it seemed like all hope was lost for him.

" _Blood Blossom: Heart Breaking Rafflesia…_ " Uttered the soft, sinister voice of Kojo. The boy funnelled his own gushing blood into the attack, at once staying the bleeding and unleashing doom on his opponent. Pierre felt the biotic spear of plant matter skewer his chest far too late to stay its assault. He was thrown back, onto the floor as the vine delivered its lethal payload into him before retracting and wilting into nothing. The red light on his collar began to blip, bathing Kojo, who now stood over him, in its light. Pierre tried to fight, but the building pain that screamed in his chest paralyzed him.

" _What… what did you do to me?!_ " He spluttered, grasping fruitlessly at his chest wound.

"I gave you the slowest death I could, that much you deserve, monster…" Kojo hissed hatefully. "I'd say you have about a minute of life left,"

" _Ah, hah, I sshee…"_ Pierre chuckled. Once he had accepted the inevitability, the pain seemed to lessen. "Kojo, your name wassh Kojo, wasshn't it?"

"What of it? These are your last words, Pierre, make them count," Kojo replied.

" _Kojo… Do you really think I wasshted my life_?" He asked, with sincerity that was previously absent. Kojo hung his head and sighed.

"No," He said simply.

" _But… You sshaid—"_

"I know what I said, but you serve a new purpose now, Pierre,"

"And what would that be?" Pierre asked, desperate sadness bubbling up past his psychotic exterior.

"My stepping stone. Pierre, with the collar that you hold, I can achieve what you never did, and In a way, it's all thanks to you. Now that I'm in the academy, I'm one step closer to making the world beautiful again," Declared Kojo valiantly.

"Hah! I guessh… I can be… happy with that…" Pierre said, through his shortness of breath. In spite of the pain, what seemed to Kojo like a genuine smile crept across Pierre's lips. "How much… time… issh it now?"

"Any second," Kojo said. Then, it happened. The seed within Pierre's heart drank up the last of his blood and bloomed explosively. It burst through his chest, shooting its roots out all over and through him and spreading viscera throughout the surroundings. Pierre' breathed his last as the roots overcame his entire body. The collar on his neck popped off, breaking through the flimsy plant matter that surrounded it.

" _Pierre, you were a worthy opponent,_ " Kojo thought. This mental eulogy was still not the least he could do, however. Kojo flicked his wrist, and a purest white lily sprung up under Pierre's body, contrasting the grim corpse flower that fed off his flesh. " _Let's hope you're less of a freak in the next life, eh?_ "

"ALL PROSPECTIVE EXAMINEES, YOUR TIME IS UP, PLEASE GATHER YOUR COLLARS AND RETURN TO THE STARING AREA FOR GRADING!"

 **To Be Continued**

 **A/N**

 _Whew! That was a big one, at 13,000 words it's the single longest chapter I've ever written. I hope that explains why I've been gone so long. Anywho, with that out of the way, we can finally move on to some other OC's perspective! I know some people like Kojo and the bunch, but there are 15 other characters here that need some focus too, so next chapter will be the opening exam from the perspective of another troupe of kids. Which troupe is still up in the air though, so why don't we put it to a vote? When you leave a review, be sure to tell me which of the troupe's you want to see next! Though, to remove bias, I'm not gonna tell you whose IN the troupes, though there may be some hints based on the names I'll give you. Anyway, here's the rest of them._

 ** _Troupe: REGICIDE_**

 ** _Troupe: UNDERGROUND_**

 ** _Troupe: CHARIOT_**

 _Can't wait to see what you have to say about things, and if you have any questions or quarrels with how I'm doing/writing things/characters, make sure to tell me in a review or drop a PM. Thanks for reading, I'll see you next chapter :)_


	4. Chapter 4 :Entrance Exam Arc:

_**[ENTRANCE** **EXAM ARC]**_

 **Chapter 4: A Gamble of Life and Death**

In the midst of the Zoldyque entrance exam, one group of five were making their merry way through the narrower streets and alleys of the faux test environment, a trail of grizzly skirmishes left in their wake. They were Troupe: Underground and the pack was being led by two girls.

The shorter of the two girls skipped slightly ahead of the taller, her auburn ponytail bouncing along with her stride. One hand was planted lazily in the front pocket of her green hoodie, while the other loosely gripped the metal bat she dragged along behind her, which left a faint trail of blood on the cobblestones below.

The other girl stomped clumsily behind, trying to keep up with her peer. The dim light glinted off the gold and black of the girl's iris' as her eyes scanned around with a sense of childish curiosity. Her skin was dark, her lips soft and pink and her toned body that of a mutant's. An insect mutant, to be precise, though this didn't make her any less easy to look at, with her more curvaceous or voluptuous aspects drawing attention away from the inhuman ones, such as the chitinous shell that covered her hands and feet. In the mutant girl's arms, collars of glowing blue and yellow were piled up, stacked as high as she thought they would go, with any spares hung around her arm like bangles. The load she bore didn't seem at all strenuous to her, and she scuttled up to her red-headed teammate.

"Hey, Freya," She spoke.

"What is it?" The girl snapped in reply.

"Well… I was thinking…" The mutant paused, the sounds of battle and chaos echoed around them while the body of some unfortunate soul screeched through the air overhead. "Wouldn't it've been smarter of us to stay outta the centre of the town?"

Freya shot her a glare, her lightly freckled nose furrowing in a mixture of frustration and disappointment. The mutant girl detected the slight against her and rushed to explain herself.

"I mean, they wouldn't've put all the bad guys around one place, right? So if we went around the outskirts we could pick up a load of free points while everyone else if fighting around here, right?"

"Oh, Lexandra, you poor dope," Freya sighed, the tension exiting her face. "If an idiot like you could have thought of that, then all the half bit chumps will be doing it. Which means It'll be better to stay in the middle. That's what you call… uh… reverse psychology, yeah… you get it?"

"I suppose that sounds smart…" Lexandra mumbled, deflating a little bit. Lexandra shut her mouth and kept trudging forward as the two girls pace slowly separated them. For a while, they continued forward, but then Lexandra scuttled up to Freya once again.

"Hey, Freya," She spoke.

"What is it?" The girl snapped in reply.

"Can we stop for a while, these are kinda heavy, and my back is starting to hurt…" Lexandra moaned.

"Okay, but only for like, five minutes. We don't have forever, this exam is timed you know," Freya lectured, resting her metal bat over her shoulder.

"Thank god," Moaned Lexandra, dropping all her collars in a heap to her side and reclining against a wall not far from the mouth of an alleyway. The rest of her troupe milled about, not interacting whatsoever.

However, from the alleyway which Lexandra rested herself by, a threat loomed. The light of a single collar began blinking unbeknownst to the oblivious girl who now stood stretched her muscles and trying her best to massage her own back. It crept slowly and carefully, the criminal behind it barely containing his homicidal glee. He vibrated with killing intent as he emerged in a predatory pounce of a seasoned murderer.

"Haha!" Cried the Level: Blue triumphantly. "You dumb kids are dead already! Just wait till you see my quirk! I'll have you begging for your lives!"

The criminals look of sadistic joy persisted even as Lexandra's arm flung out in a defensive reflex, catching the Level: Blue dead in the jaw and sending him through a brick wall. He died on impact. It took Lexandra a second to notice anything had happened at all, then she jumped in surprise.

"Guys, we're under attack!" She yelled, just as a hoard of blue and yellow lights blinked in the dark that surrounded them.

"Everyone, back to back!" Cried Freya, putting her bat up and getting into position. Before the order reached the ears of her comrades, a burst of gas surrounded them, leaving them blind and vulnerable.

The smog was thick and black, and breathing it in caused Freya's throat to cry out in pain. It was like trying to inhale sandpaper. The red-head quickly ducked and leapt into a miraculous pocket of clean air, in which stood Lexandra, who swatted helplessly at the gas. Freya spluttered a little bit, before standing upright.

"Lexandra, that's pointless. I don't know where it came from, but this gas is too thick to disperse like that,"

"So what do we do?" Lexandra asked, slightly panicked. Just then, emerging from the smoke came a posse of Level: Blue criminals, all grinning devilishly and holding a variety of deadly looking implements.

"Hmm…" Freya said, rubbing her chin. "I suppose it's been a while since we cracked some skulls, how does that sound?"

"Whatever you say, Frey" Grinned Lexandra. The girls rushed into the brawl.

The thick smoke which burned at their throats and seemed to have come from nowhere had splintered the undergrounds. With Freya and Lexandra running off in their battle and the fifth member disappearing into nowhere, there was now only the two male members of the troupe left in the original rest area.

The taller of the two boys (at an above average 180cm) wore a thick back leather jacket and combat boots, with brown cargos. His messy blond bangs fell over his many eyes, eight in total. Four were on his forehead, two in the normal place a human would be expected to have eyes and the final two on the side of his head. A thin split ran down his jaw, which allowed it to split into two, though it remained closed for now. He was the second animal mutant of the group, with a far more arachnid appearance than Lexandra had. The much shorter boy by his side instead had shaggy black hair, and a set of shabby, generally dark and mismatched but never-the-less warm looking clothes.

"So, it's just us then, huh? I should have you know, I prefer working alone. I'm only in this group cuz I gotta be, ok?" The Spider-boy said to his compatriot. The shaggy-haired boy glanced at the taller and much more imposing arachnid shyly before quickly looking to his feet and keeping his lips pursed shut. "Hey! Say somethin' you bastard!" The spider yelled, grabbing the boy by the collar. "This is why I hate quiet people. What are you thinkin', huh? You ain't judgin' me are ya'?" It was through this tirade that the spider's thick accent became apparent to the shaggy-haired boy. Was that… Brisbane? A question for later.

"I-I-I..." He stammered nervously.

"You what, huh?" Growled the spider.

"I think we should worry about the bad guys…" The shaggy-haired boy said, pointing towards the villainous figure emerging from the smog.

"Oh yeah, the bad guys," Sighed the spider, dropping the shaggy-haired boy to his feet. "Let's see what we're dealing with, eh?" The spider cracked his knuckles, swinging around to face the new foe.

The killer's body was huge and fat, but more notably, headless. Where once his head would be now there was only a trapezoid muscle with a mop of patchy black hair. His eyes were set in his shoulders, and his nostrils where the nipples lay on an ordinary man. A thick-lipped and sharp teethed mouth ran around the circumference of his enormous belly, which he gently rubbed while licking those same lips.

"Well well well, what do we ave' ere'… a coupla' morsels to add to Eavy' Eater's collection, eh?" The man guffawed.

" _Is he… referring to himself in the third-person? Oh god, that must mean he's strong, right?_ " The shaggy-haired boy thought in a panicked frenzy. The criminal suddenly flexed his muscles in a show-offish way, drawing attention to the collar that was strained around his muscular bicep. The lights around it lit up a sickly yellow colour.

"Ya see this ere'?" Said Heavy Eater, pointing to the yellow glowing collar. "This ere' means that I'm a cut above the rest see? And don't yous lot forget it, yeah?" He gloated.

"Hmph… Stronger doesn't mean strong you fat ugly bastard," Spat Alex disdainfully.

" _I thought he hated judgement, what a hypocrite… wait… is that judgment? Oh crap, what if he beats me up now?… crap crap crap!"_ The shaggy-haired boy's thoughts whirled around in his head as the other two in the cloud faced off.

As the spider stood there grimacing at the Level: Yellow, a chittering mass emerged from behind him, crawling around his body and emerging from his jacket. In total, they numbered six, spider-like legs with a glossy chitinous casing. Their points were ferociously sharp, and all aimed at his new adversary.

Heavy Eater roared and charged at the spider, bearing his monstrous teeth. The spider stood still and rigid as the Level: Yellow approached, acting only once he was an arm's length away. Heavy Eater began to open his mouth, revealing a deep black void within. The spider did the same. The line running down his chin came apart and his mouth suddenly unfurled into a horrific mass of fangs and flesh, spraying quick jets of green acrid fluid as it did so. Heavy Eater snapped his mouth shut in a hurry, the shock causing him to jump slightly. Before the criminal knew it, however, one of his opponent's spear-like spider legs reached around his back and sprung at him, ripping into his cheek and sending him staggering.

The spider boy grinned, he had gained the upper hand. Capitalizing, he drew all of his six legs back together, having them arch inward towards his back and priming them for a killing blow against the Level: Yellow, however, just before the strike was dealt something leapt out from the smog behind him, and he found his legs unable to move. He swivelled his head around in a rage to see the obstruction and found a diminutive, lanky and hairless man with skin that wrinkled like a raisin. He was covered in some sort of thick transparent slime that cloyed to al six legs, sticking them together and halting all their motion.

"What?! Get offa me you gross bastard!" The spider roared, flailing around and trying to detach his new attacker.

"Pfuhuhuh… Nice one _Hors-d'oeuvres_ … that sweet sticky slime you got… I'm sure that'll make this twerp all the tastier…" Said Heavy Eater, standing up from his prone state and licking the blood from his wounds with his gargantuan tongue.

"HeHe… Anything for you… Heavy Eater… sir… Hehe… Now eat this bastard! The sealant won't last forever!" Hors-D'oeuvres simpered, spraying slimy spit with each word.

Heavy Eater gave a vicious predatory roar and leapt towards the spider at incredible speed in spite of his colossal size with his mouth wide open. A spray of slobber was sent in all directions as the Level: Yellow's jaw clasped together at lightning speed and with thunderous force.

"Pfuhuhuh…You know, they says the strongest bite in the animal kingdom is the Saltwater Crocodile, what can close its jaws with a force upwards of three thousand PSI, well I says I gots em beat wit' a whoppin' ten thousand! Nothin' could survive a single bite a' these chompers, eh, twerp?" Heavy eater snarled at the Spider, who was thrown on his back by the attack which he only just barely managed to dodge in the first place. "Nows that I gots yous on yer' back, Hors-D'oeuvres' gots yas stuck to the ground s'well, so now ye' can't move at all, can ya?" The criminal grinned sadistically and more and more drool poured out of his colossal mouth.

The shaggy-haired boy realised in an instant that things were going badly. If the spider kid was consumed, then he'd be next, the mere thought caused him to fill with panic. There was only one thing to do, and that was to take action. The shaggy-haired boy quickly pulled up his sleeves to his elbow, revealing either of his black stained hands which steadily dripped a black inky fluid. With a mild focus from the shaggy-haired boy, the ink began to take form, shaping itself steadily as the boy charged forward towards Heavy Eater.

The Level: Yellow noticed the shaggy-haired boy charging them, and his body tensed into a battle-ready stance. He prepared to throw a hook at the oncoming boy, but he ducked and slid well under the arc of his attack, catching the criminal off guard. The boy lashed out with his blades to either side of him at blinding speed. A flurry of invisible cuts tore through Heavy Eater's thick skin, lacerating him all the way up to his knees and causing him to reel. The Level: Yellow was forced to his knees from the painful sensation as the shaggy-haired boy skidded to a halt.

"Gah! That hurts you bastard! Hors-D'oeuvres! Gets im'!" Ordered Heavy Eater to his partner, but there came no reply. Only shreds of the criminals' slime which were scattered around the floor, mixing with a gathering pool of blood.

Hors-D'oeuvres was shredded by the shaggy-haired boys attack, and in death was cut away from the spider. The spider took his time in standing up, the shrivelled up corpse of the man that had clung to his back sliding off of him into a pile of his own semi-solid slime. He dusted himself off.

"Hey, not half-bad, kid. What'd you say your name was again?" He said.

"Remus…" Mumbled the shaggy-haired boy.

"Got a last name?"

"Wilder,"

"Well, my names Alex, Alex Harper. Thanks for saving my ass I suppose," The spider grinned, holding out one hand welcomingly. Remus reluctantly shook it, leaving it dripping with pure black ink, which Alex quickly rubbed off onto his cargos.

 **-/-**

 _ **Name:**_ _REMUS WILDER_

 _ **Quirk:**_ _INK_

 _Remus' hands produce a constant steady stream of durable black ink. Remus can manipulate the shape and consistency of this ink in order to produce a variety of objects._

 **-/-**

"Oi, you dumb prick kids…" Growled Heavy Eater, who unsteadily righted himself. His teeth made unsavoury grinding noises as they grit together, the rage in his eyes was palpable. "First, you kill my partner in crime, then ye' just turn yer' back on me, like I was nothin'?!" He cried.

"Oh yeah, this fat fuck's still here isnt he?" Spat Alex.

"What did you say to me?!" Heavy Eater Yelled, balling his hands into fists. Alex nonchalantly turned his head, snapping his mouth wide open and revealing the grim arachnid mandibles that lay within. Heavy Eater was stunned just long enough for Alex' spinnerets to kick into action, sending precise jets of tensile web towards the Level: Yellow. The web struck around his arms and legs, trapping him to the ground with his arms stuck firmly to a nearby lamp-post.

"W-what the hell?!" Heavy Eater roared, thrashing around in his silken bonds.

"Yeah, how does that feel, you bastard?" Said Alex, slowly approaching his immobilized foe.

"Dumbass! This web ain't nothin', I'll just bite through it!" Heavy Eater cried, priming his jaws to slice through the web. Three more precision web projectiles shot out from Alex' mouth, binding together the criminal's teeth.

"Next time, don't telegraph your next fucking move, idiot," Spat Alex. "Scratch that, actually. There's not gonna be a 'next time',"

Heavy Eater gagging furiously, his cries muffled by the silk holding his jaws together. Alex continued his approach.

"So, your deal is you eat people right? That's the villain gimmick going on here? Well, hows about we beat some empathy into you, show you what that's like, huh?" Alex grinned. The Level: Yellow continued thrashing around to no avail, this time more out of fear than anger. "Do you know how a spider eats, you fat bastard? I'll tell you. What he does is, he ties you up, then he pumps you full of venom and watches it rot you from the inside. Then, once that's done with, he sucks up all the juices, leaving nothing but a dead husk. How does that sound, you murdering scumbag?" Alex growled. His mouth split open again, this time bearing two humongous gnarled fangs which dripped with hissing, necrotic venom. Heavy Eater's eyes were full of fear as Alex suddenly plunged his fangs into him, injecting a boiling stream of poison directly into his bloodstream. As Alex pulled back, blood dripping from his mouth, the flesh around the wound began to rot away almost immediately, while Heavy Eater's thrashing only became more and more vigorous over time, culminating just before the criminal's eyes rolled into the back of his skull and sickly green foam began to seep from the corners of his gaping jaw. He fell backwards, dead and limp.

 **-/-**

 _ **Name:**_ _ALEX "WOLF" HARPER_

 _ **Quirk:**_ _SPIDER_

 _Alex's mutation ability grants him the morphological features of a variety of spider species. These include six bony legs which protrude from his back, as well as the ability to produce both strong, sticky webbing and potent venom. Alex also gains the usual advantages in power and senses granted by his mutant status, with his eight eyes attributing greatly to his perception. Due to his spider anatomy, he shares the same weaknesses as the arachnid, such as vulnerability to the cold and pesticides._

 **-/-**

"Woah, that was pretty brutal," Remus mumbled.

"Would you believe if I said I'd never killed anyone before today?" Alex said, wiping the blood from his chin and spitting out what little of it got into his mouth.

"It's a good thing you got over that so quickly…" Remus said, rolling the heavy yellow collar along the ground. It was just then that the intense thick clouds of stinging gas that had surrounded them during their battle, at last, began to clear up, leaving one figure standing in the dead centre of where the cloud was.

She was youthful, one might say beautiful, looking, with pristine olive toned skin and black wavy hair which hung preferentially towards one side of her head. Her grey eyes exuded incredible joy at the corpses that lay around her feet. Criminals of varying shapes, sizes and level all dead around her, with glazed over eyes, bulging purple veins and mouths that hung open. Slivers of black smog still hung around the girl's thin lips, which she inhaled through her nose as she took a deep refreshing breath.

"Heh, I got em," She smiled, hopping energetically in place. This was Artemisia, full name Artemisia Eurus Wyonna. Being the outgoing girl that she is, she was the first to introduce herself, and everyone knew her name already, but nothing of her abilities.

"Artemisia!" Freya called, running over to the girl and stepping carefully over a few bodies to do so. "What the hell was that?"

"Oh, just a little bit of poison gas. I hope you didn't breath in too much of it," Artemisia said. Freya narrowed her eyes at her as she gave her a lopsided grin.

 **-/-**

 _ **Name:**_ _ARTEMISIA EURUS WYONNA_

 _ **Quirk:**_ _IN AND OUT_

 _As a result of a mutation in Artemisia's lungs, she has the ability to convert gas which she inhales into any other gas upon exhalation, so long as the materials to produce it are both present in the air and known to Artemisia. This quirk has the useful side-effect of increasing Artemisia's lung capacity and giving her an immunity to outside sources of toxic gas which can be converted into breathable air before respiration occurs._

 **-/-**

"Whatever… Lexandra, your break's over. Come here and pick these collars up will you? We should be getting pretty close to fifty by now…"

The group's action was disturbed by the signs of another approaching figure, but this time of a different nature. Everyone could feel it, their instincts told them that whoever this figure was wasn't of any harm to them. Pained groans met the ears of Freya, who was the first to turn and meet their new company.

The grumbling and groaning they all heard, as Freya found out, was coming from another examinee, a dressed up looking boy with blue hair which was stained with blood. In fact, everything was stained in blood, up to and including the wall which he dragged himself along helplessly. The rest of the group caught on to this development quickly, and all gathered around.

"Who goes there?" Freya called out. Lexandra began to hop forwards towards him but was halted by Freya.

"Finally, thank god… More people…" The injured boy crowed weakly. He doubled over, retching up huge amounts of blood before slowly sliding down the brick wall and ending up splayed over the floor. The Undergrounds all looked towards Freya, who looked back at them absently.

"What are you looking at me for? Help him if you're gonna," She said, standing there dismissively. Lexandra immediately scuttled over to the boy but stopped just short of grabbing him.

"G-guys… can I have some help? I'm scared I might break him…" She said sadly. Artemisia silently came over to join her. The girl took a quick look at the injured examinee, which he returned before his head fell back and his eyes fluttered closed.

"D-did he die!?" Lexandra exclaimed.

"No, he's just fading in and out of consciousness. Probably has some head injuries," Artemisia said. She took a deep breath, held it in for a moment and then hung her mouth open. A bank of pale blue gas rolled out from it and tumbled lightly onto the floor, encircling their heels. The gas reached the boy's lips and began to creep into his mouth. Not a moment later his eyes shot open and he threw himself up, gasping and jittering energetically.

"What is this stuff? It looks like cotton candy," Said Lexandra, trying to scoop some of the sapphire-coloured smoke into her mouth.

"Don't inhale too much of that, it's an asphyxiate," Artemisia scolded Lexandra, who dropped the handful of gas she had back into the cloud on the floor.

"But what is it?" Freya asked, from a safe distance.

"It's a mixture of some natural endorphins and nitrous oxide," Artemisia explained. The boy on the floor gripped at his chest. Taking a look at his bloodstained hands, he began to giggle uncontrollably. "Also known as laughing gas. It should keep him conscious and relatively comfortable," She elaborated.

"What happened to you anyway?" Asked Lexandra, peering into the boy curiously.

"Ambushed the wrong guy… One of those red collars. The rest of my troupe is dead, heads blown clean off, bodies reduced to nothing but mincemeat. I only got out because protective aura quirk cushioned the blow, but the bastard still launched me over a building. And, uh… that's how I got here, I guess..." The boy detailed, putting his arms behind his head.

"You seem pretty casual about that," Artemisia said.

"It's probably the gas. Names Reg, by the way, thanks for asking," Said Reg snarkily.

"Any time," Artemisia fired right back. Reg erupted into a disturbingly intense fit of giggling, rocking back and forth as he did so. Artemisia stood back a bit, mildly off-put.

"Thanks for that gas, by the way… I feel…. Heheheh… Much better now..." Reg said, stuck in a sort of delirious stupor. He stared upwards at the cave's ceiling.

"Well, unless you've got a first-aid kit stashed away somewhere that's all we can do for you," Artemisia sighed. "Besides, we kinda got an exam to pass, so we can't afford to bum around in this alley babysitting you," Artemisia replied.

"Ha… Fair enough…" Reg chuckled, swinging his head down.

There was a minute sound, such that only the mutant of the group could possibly detect it. The girl perked up, turning away from the nothing-in-particular she was doing and turning her attention to the wall which Reg was up against. She got up from her crouched position and began to approach.

"What is it?" Artemisia asked, commenting on her teammate's odd behaviour.

"I think there's somebody on the other side of this wall?" Lexandra proposed, placing her ear right up against its surface. "Yeah, I definitely hear some footsteps coming from back there..."

"Lex, what does it matter?" Artemisia replied, crossing her arms. "Probably just some guy passing through, its nothing to do with us,"

"He's getting closer," Lexandra mumbled.

"So?" Artemisia chided.

"Hold on, I think they-" Suddenly, some kind of blast of force was shunted into the wall from the opposite side, causing it to crack and buckle. Reg was knocked onto his face, while Lexandra staggered backwards, eventually falling to her knees as a drop of blood escaped from the ear that was just seconds ago right against the wall.

"Shit! Lexandra, get back!" Artemisia commanded, retracting back away from Reg. Lexandra complied in a daze, dizzily fluttering away from the wall and leaving Reg worming his way across the floor pathetically.

The ground shook as several more blasts erupted out in quick succession. They continued, breaking down more and more of the thick brickwork until a hole appeared, and a lone fist pierced through it, scattering dust and shards of brick onto Reg as he crawled away lamely.

Lexandra thought to jump back over for a second, but Artemisia anticipated her. She turned over to the girl just as she was ready to leap in, and she shook her head. Lexandra pouted and stepped back defensively as another round of blows resounded against the wall.

With one last blast, the wall came down, and a landslide of debris cascaded onto Reg, who yelped in pain before starting to giggle hysterically, his body crushed and pinned down by the rubble. The culprit was still obscured, their body only visible in silhouette, but his stature and demeanour clearly indicated he was no examinee.

"Oh… Heh… heh… He came back for me… heh…." Reg laughed weakly. "We're so fucked… heh..." The boy groaned. With a forceful wave of the hand, the billowing dust surrounding the criminal was dispelled.

He stood at only about an inch higher than the tallest of the Undergrounds, but his presence was an enormous, towering thing. It made him seem like a giant, looming over the group from above, his body drenched in blood-red light. The man's skin was a sallow light brown shade, with scars and pockmarks running all the way across it up to his face. His eyes were obscured partly by his thick brow and partly by his black, sweaty-looking, thin, matted hair which drooped over his face. As for clothing, it was a simple affair. A wife-beater and a pair of slacks, with overall straps that hung at his thigh. The outfit left plenty of room to reveal the criminal's smooth musculature, as well as what appeared to his most notable feature, that which was a symptom of his quirk. On the man's back, seemingly mounted on his shoulder blades, were two long flesh-coloured vents which terminated into a series of thick and vein-like tubes that ran all the way down the criminal's arms. To top it all off, around the man's neck, there hung a glowing red collar.

The criminal slowly reached down, clasping his thick fingers around Reg's head and pulling his limp body out from under the heap of rubble and bricks that had crushed him. The boy's laughter was nothing but wheezing now.

"You got away from me before. Not this time," Said the Red collar.

The undergrounds were totally stunned. They could do nothing as the Level: Red's fingers gripped tighter around Reg's head and he began to pull back one fist.

As he drew the fist back, there was a slight whistling as air was ejected from the vents on his back. Then, just as the fist had reached it's the pinnacle of its backwards arc, there came a sudden vortex of wind as the same vent voraciously absorbed the air around it, funnelling it all down the vein-like tubes of the arm with metric tonnes of pneumatic force. The punch was unleashed with explosive velocity towards its mark, the impact sending a gust of wind which staggered each of the Undergrounds. Reginald's quirk did all it could, the blue aura seeming to just a little bit of the force, but the punch carried through. He was sent flying into the air, his face left a bloody and mangled mess as he soared through the darkness.

"Did… did he kill him?" Lexandra said, a mote of concern in her voice.

"Yeah, probably," Artemisia answered, her voice beginning to tremble.

"N-no fucking way…" Mumbled Alex.

"He just… With one punch…" Remus muttered, receding into the pack.

The glare of the Level: Red turned to the Undergrounds. His dark black eyes penetrated them. They contained no emotion but murder.

"Who are you?" Freya said, stepping forward. The Level: Red looked left and looked right, and after determining that there was nobody else she could've been talking to, he piped up.

"Does it matter?" He said, his voice was deep and soft.

"Who _are_ you?" Freya reiterated, taking another step forward. The criminal sighed.

"I'm nobody in particular," He said, throwing another punch in the blink of an eye. It was nowhere near as strong as his last, but even from a distance of three meters the sheer force which was projected outwards knocked all of the wind from Freya's gut.

The girl fell backwards, Alex catching her mid-arc and propping her up for long enough time for the criminal to ready another attack. Thinking quickly, Alex dumped the retching Freya in Remus' arms, who started to freak out and scampered back, the girl in tow.

Another wave of weaponised air was shot out by the Level: Red. It hit the boy like a bus, blowing back his jacket and nearly sending him off his feet, but the spider was more durable than most people, and he managed to find his footing again.

"Hey, have you got a deathwish, prick!" He cried, more pissed off than injured. The Level: Red stood silently massaging his knuckles. He had a pensive and thoughtful look on his face, as though alternating between daydreaming and sizing the spider boy up.

"Hey, Bastard! What are you thinkin' huh? Fucking answer when I speak to you!" Roared Alex, flying into a rage. The Level: Red sighed. His eyes narrowed, and his rage was unleashed, clashing against that off Alex.

The two stood off, staring each other down. Clouds of agitated dust still stirred at their heels. The criminal snorted, and Alex growled aggressively. Their eyes met, and Alex detected an ever-so-slight change of expression in the Level: Red that stood across from him. He felt hairs on his neck begin to stand up on end, which sent a cold shiver travelling through his body. A fear response… but, nothing was happening?

The Level: Red's attack was too quick to detect. He brought his fist up and down again in a time that Alex's eyes couldn't detect, sending chaotic torrents of air spiralling around the pair. Alex's danger sense activated with violent force, yanking him out of the way of the attack before his brain had a chance to process what had happened. The Level: Red's fist carried over the boy's shoulder and right past his ear, sending its power into the ground and blasting the cobblestones to dust.

It took until Alex had felt the complete effects of the criminal's attack for him to realise anything had happened at all. It happened so quickly, all Alex knew was that his ears were ringing and his head spun. His breath was short and ragged, and his tough outward persona was wavering.

" _Even with a missed attack…_ " He thought as he staggered back a little. " _Could do that kind of damage?_ "

A thin stream of blood emerged from deep within Alex's ear. He scrunched his face up and shook his head, covering his ears in a vain attempt to ease the overpowering stinging sensation. He had to put some distance between them. Now.

Alex drew his legs out and drove them into the ground with force, trying to push himself back. He didn't get far. The Level: Red had him gripped by the collar, and with a cold disdainful glare he pulled him down to his feet and wound up his other fist.

Alex could feel every hair on his body stand on end as a dark feeling overcame him. If he didn't block this attack, it could very well be the end of him.

Moving automatically, the six legs from Alex's back converged towards each other, arranging themselves into a lattice around him and forming a rudimentary shield. It was just in time to block the Level: Red's punch. It took all of Alex's strength to resist the intense force which fought against his guard. His six legs began to bend, buckle under the attack, but they did not break. The Level: Red's attack glanced off the thick shell, only blowing Alex back several metres and causing him to skid several more. Alex took a breather, there was some distance between them now, and his opponent thankfully seemed in no rush. Each of his six legs hurt like fuck, still slightly misshapen from absorbing the impact, but he was standing at the very least.

Alex refocused his efforts on the Level: Red, who had just now thought it prudent to react and began to approach Alex at a steady gait.

The spider boy ran over his options in his head. He had to find a way to close the gap in strength between them or he was a sitting duck. It only took him another moment of thought in order to come to his conclusion. Alex unfurled his jaw.

" _I'll stick him down, just like with that fat prick earlier…_ " He thought. Alex's spinnerettes worked overtime as he drew his entire body back. His torso, and his head with it, then shot forward as he hocked an enormous globule of webbing into the air. It arced downwards and spread out as it fought against the perturbed gusts unleashed by the Level: Red's attacks, forming a meters wide net that cast a shadow over the criminal.

The Level: Red, glancing upwards and seeing the attack coming down towards him, drew his fist down to his waist. He crouched down, if only for a moment, and unleashed a thunderous uppercut which carried him a good foot into the air. The net was pierced in the centre first, as the air pushed against it. Then it began to whirl and convulse as it was overtaken in the chaotic torrents of wind brought about by the Level: Red's attack. With a second punch in quick succession to the first, the now once again balled up web was blown apart in a dreadful spectacle, spreading out all around on the wind. The Level: Red held his fist aloft as useless shreds of destroyed webbing rained down around him.

Alex was stunned by the show of force. He could feel himself starting to panic, but he was nowhere near backing down. Steeling himself, his mouth unfurled and his fangs reared themselves, firing a precise jet of venom towards the boy's assailant. Arnold had no reaction, not even flinching until the jet was in arms reach. Then, he drew back his fist and backhanded the venom into thin vapour, his gait not changing in the slightest.

"That's your solution to everything?! Just punching it? Asshole!" Screamed Alex.

The level red, summarily ignoring the cries of his opponent, brought his hand up to his face, examining his knuckles and the few flecks of acrid venom that clung to them. A slight gust of air escaped his nose in a sigh, and he reached down to his pockets, producing out of them a pair of ancient-looking brass knuckles. They were well used, worn and smooth aside from the occasional nick and patch of dried-on blood. He slipped one onto each hand in a slow and deliberate manner, taking some time to flex each of his fingers and to crick his neck. He began to proceed at an exacerbated pace.

Alex grit his teeth. He was going to kill this bastard, he was sure of it. The points of his six spider legs gleamed in the dim light. They jittered around, aching to pierce flesh. The wild blood fury that he had been barely concealing up until this point began to bubble over and escape. The boy's eyes narrowed and he bared his fangs, ready to face his opponent head-on.

Alex took one solid step towards his opponent and the criminal began to bolt forward. With a beserk roar, he strode mightily towards Alex, his fists trailing behind him as the vents at his back sucked in vast quantities of air as he went. Alex was instantly paralyzed as the Level: Red barreled towards him. The spider was entered into the criminal's death cone, and his full power was unleashed.

Again moving without conscious thought, Alex's legs came together in what time they had, encompassing him in a protective barrier. But this time it was in vain. Alex's guard stood no chance, as the criminal's fists exploded towards him in unison, his shield soon gave way and was forced aside by the piercing strength each of the Level: Red's fists. They shot straight, colliding with the boy's chest, the metal of his knuckles digging deep into his flesh. A spatter of blood escaped from his gullet as he was launched into and through the ground below. He came crashing to a stop against the base of a lamppost, thudding against it dully and bending it a near 30 degrees in the process. He had left a trail of dirt and upturned cobbles in his wake. He groaned slightly, all of that wild rage and power bled out from him, now he was simply scared and in pain.

The Level: Red again began to approach at a steady gait.

Alex was quickly losing hope. His body refused to move. Then, he saw some stirring from farther up the alley. Lexandra suddenly sprung up from the pile of rubble she landed in, and the scattered debris gently pelting his back was enough to give the Level: Red pause. There was something coming from behind him. Something hostile, and he need only turn around and-

The Level: Red hadn't the time to finish his thought, let alone throw a punch before Lexandra was on top of him. She unleashed an attack of her own. The Level: Red was halfway through bringing his arm around when her fist met with the criminal's elbow, the angular geometry of her shell digging into his skin and her incredible strength sending his arm flying backwards at a painful odd angle. The Level: Red scoffed, shrugging off the pain. One decent hit, so what?

The pairs next attacks came at the same time, and The Level: Red's fist met with Lexandra's, sparks flying as they clashed and scraped together. Lexandra's chitinous shell began to crack, giving way to her opponent. She winced in pain, pushing harder against her adversary, but he brought his other fist back around, swinging his knuckles backways into Lexandra's face and sending her careening through a nearby display window.

Alex should have felt dread at the prospect of his allies being eliminated so easily, but in reality, he felt relief. This was a distraction, and Alex wasn't going to let a chance like that go to waste. He unfurled his jaw, primed his spinnerettes and looked upwards to the skyline.

The criminal returned his attention to Alex just in time to see him shoot off upwards, a web slung from his mouth dragging him to safety. The Level: Red growled as he helplessly watched Alex perch on the edge of the building, clutching his injured chest, he gave a quick glance towards the Level: Red, briefly panicked and hastily shot out another thick string of web out towards the ground. The criminal's eyes followed the boy's projectile towards its point of impact, at the feet of Remus and Freya. They looked dumbfounded up to Alex, standing over the roof and staring down at them.

"Dumbasses! Get up here before he kills you!" Alex roared, his voice carrying all over the caverns. The Level: Red's eyes narrowed he knew the game now, and so did Freya and Remus. The pair both hopped up onto the web and began to climb towards the roofs, towards were Alex had been a moment ago when he warned them. The Level: Red wasn't going to let them get away that easily, however.

The criminal began to sprint over towards where he had been. Going low to the ground as he did so he covered ground at an incredible pace. Remus saw the Level: Red encroaching on them like an ambush predator and his nerves sent daggers through his body.

"F-F-Freya… Can you go a little faster? We're in serious shit right now," Remus stammered, struggling to keep his balance as the panic set in.

"This is as fast as I go, It's not like I'm a gymnast. Now shut up or I make you shut up!" Snarked Freya, wobbling as she progressed towards the roof at a too slow pace.

The Level: Red watched as his prey slowly escaped his reach and grit his teeth. There was only one thing to do. He clenched his fist and aimed his attack carefully as he approached at a lightning speed. Freya and Remus frantically scrambled up Alex's lifeline, but at the rate they were going, it was hopeless. The criminal knew it, all it would take was one well-aimed air-blast to knock them down, then they were his. It wouldn't even have to be an exceptional punch, just a good solid hit was enough to damn the pair. He lined up his attack, slowing his pace to steady his aim.

"Aren't you forgetting someone?" A feminine voice from just barely outside the Level: Red's field of vision cried coyly.

Artemisia appeared out of the darkness as the criminal was in mid-step. His eyes swivelled around just to see her mouth wide open, she cried out and gas billowed onto the Level: Red's face in an enormous encompassing dark yellow cloud. The criminal staggered back, spluttering desperately to remove the toxic substance from his system. His punch was let loose, shooting a blast of air off centre, shattering a window and rocking the web, but leaving Freya and Remus unharmed and unhindered.

In his pain the Level: Red cursed and began wildly lashing out at his surroundings, sending punch after punch into the cloud and whipping up a colossal torrent that tore swaths away from the mass of the cloud. What wasn't sucked up the powerful intake of the vents was dissipated in a series of explosive blasts of air current, again and again until in his vomiting and retching and tearing up the criminal purged the last of the gas from around him.

Eventually, after his punching had subsided, there was nothing left. No Artemisia, no Freya, no Remus. The web they had climbed up was cut at its upper anchor, stains of ink left around the area of the incision.

He turned around to catch a glimpse of the mutant girl he had dispatched earlier climbing her way up the wall. She noticed him and hopped up onto the roof quickly. In his rage, the Level: Red launched an unruly airblast towards her which veered off course, merely taking a chunk out of the brickwork, leaving the girl unharmed as she scampered off over the precipice of said roof to join her teammates.

The Level: Red growled and huffed. Those damn kids had slipped right through his fingers. Still, the anger within him did not persist. Though he hadn't gotten the satisfaction of killing them, in their rush to escape him they appeared to have left precisely what he had come for.

"I can't believe we're not dead," Lexandra sighed in relief as she clambered over the roof to join her comrades in hiding.

"I wish I was dead. That was humiliating," Growled Alex, crossing his arms. Lexandra stifled a laugh. Alex didn't know how to feel about that.

"I think we can all agree that our encounter just now could've gone a little better," Freya said. "But we're doing okay, right? We got plenty of points, and none of us died,"

"When the best thing you can say is 'nobody died', then it probably wasn't very good, was it?" Sneered Artemisia.

"Well, she did say we have a lot of points…" Remus retorted. Artemisia rolled her eyes, exiting the conversation and slumping down onto her stomach, peering over down into the alley.

"Hey, you guys wanna spy on the red collar?" The girl asked. The others considered for a while and then partook at their own leisure.

Down in the alleyway, the Level: Red was left to his own devices. He began to stride off when an irritating blue light winked into vision down the corridor.

The source of the light was soon revealed, a scrawny midget with a slightly misshapen body and an uncanny grin.

"H-hey… You… You're 'Arnold', right? 'Arnold the Juggernaut'?" Came the snivelling, nasally voice attached to the figure. "I-I really admire your work! Y-You're sort of the reason I started myself, actually… Heh, it makes sense that they'd make _you_ a Level: Red, no? I bet you've got a lot of tokens already. Hey! We should team, yeah? Having a couple groupies couldn't hurt, could it? It could definitely be a beneficial arrangement, whadya say?" The fanboy criminal babbled towards his idol as he slowly approached. The Level: Red turned, leering over the miniscule Level: Blue.

"Any tokens?" 'Arnold' muttered. The man seemed determined to keep his words to a minimum.

"Oh, uh, just the one. I swiped it off a scary looking kid while he wasn't paying attention. you see, he—"

Arnold wasn't in the mood for any more words, instead, he threw a lightning fast punch that struck the criminal square in the jaw, the impact unleashing a thunderous sound that echoed from the walls of the great stone cavern. In a horrific burst of blood, the man's head was ripped from his very shoulders and flew upwards, while the rest of the force carried through to his body, causing it to skid away across the ground at incredible speed, independent of it's now airborne head it scraped across the cobbles, leaving spatters of blood as it was wrenched and mangled by its own momentum, eventually coming to a stop as it splattered against a wall and slid down slowly, reduced to a pile of mincemeat. The head spun in place above the ground, hanging in the air for what seemed like an age, horror carved forever into its expression. It dropped from the air, cracking against the ground and spreading its fluids across Arnold's shoes. The collar, flying separate from the body and the head, spiralled down towards Arnold, who caught it without so much as a thought, crushing it in one hand as though it were nothing. He released his grip, and metal powder sprinkled into his open palm below, along with one pristine glittering Zoldyque token which Arnold quickly scooped up and slotted into his own collar. He spat towards his hapless victim, turned and walked towards the stack of collars which had been dropped by the Undergrounds in their impromptu escape.

"Hey! Those are ours!" Lexandra huffed.

"What are you talking about?" Freya said, peeking her head over the precipice of the roof. She saw Arnold, nonchalantly ripping their hard-accrued score to shreds and harvesting what meagre amount of tokens came from within them. "N… Nobody grabbed the collars?" Freya seethed, her voice subtly boiling over with rage.

"Not my job," Alex sighed, reclining against the roof. Remus shook his head vigorously and shied away from Freya's glare.

"Last I checked, that was Lex's job," Artemisia hummed, gesturing towards the bug mutant with a nod of the head. Lexandra took notice of the attention drawn towards her, recognizing by the fiery look in her accomplice's eye that this indeed was not the good kind of attention. She began blushing furiously, nervous laughter escaping from her mouth.

"Oh… uh… well…" She babbled, pressing two fingers together and looking down to avoid eye contact. Lexandra jerked her hand forward suddenly, Lexandra thought she might slap her and recoiled reflexively, but instead, she just lightly tapped the girl on the cheek.

"You know what?" She said, her voice having cooled down just a bit. "I don't even wanna hear it. No matter how much I'm gonna make as an assassin, I won't be getting paid enough to deal with your dumb ass. So from now on, where dumping your useless brain and using mine instead, got it?" Freya seared. Lexandra opened her mouth to object or say anything at all, but no sound left her lips. One eyebrow raised in surprise, the mutant girl tried again to speak out, but there was again nothing. She tried to scream at full force, but not even a squeak was brought forth from her vocal cords. She stood up from her kneeling position. The fabrics of her clothes did not rustle as they passed over each other, nor did her heavy feet make any sound as they clattered against the roof tiling.

"Freya, what did you do to her?" Artemisia asked, sounding more curious than concerned.

"I made her useful," Freya said. Lexandra whimpered mutely. "Now Lexandra, you never answered my question, did you. From now on, you're gonna do exactly what I say when I say it, and if I don't say anything, you don't do anything, ok?" Freya ordered.

 **-/-**

 _ **Name:**_ _FREYA LYBECK_

 _ **Quirk:**_ _SOUNDLESS_

 _On contact, Freya can strip any object of its ability to either produce or transmit sound, making it totally mute. The ability will persist indefinitely as long as Freya is in close proximity to the object in question, but the effect gets weaker as she gets farther away. Freya can use this ability on herself freely. An ideal stealth ability, it makes any weapon entirely inconspicuous and can completely gut the enemies ability to communicate effectively._

 **-/-**

Lexandra froze up. She felt a mixture of sadness anger and guilt, towards her reprimanding and at herself. With a deep, completely inaudible sigh, she gave a quick decisive nod.

"Good girl," Freya hummed, swinging her bat up to her shoulder.

"So uh, what do we do now?" Remus asked, rejoining the conversation now that the tense atmosphere subsided.

"Yeah, times running out and we're totally pointless," Artemisia grumbled. Alex grunted in agreement.

"Well…" Freya mewed, tapping her chin.

"Well, what?" Alex grumbled, opening his eyes.

"I may have a plan… but…" Freya mumbled, rubbing her chin contemplatively.

"B-but what?" Asked Remus, his eyes widening.

"It's a gamble, is all," Freya said mischievously.

"Welp, I don't hear any better ideas," Alex huffed, righting himself steadily.

"What about you Lex, you got any better ideas?" Artemisia mused, teasingly jutting Lexandra in the ribs with an elbow.

"So, uh… what is this plan?" Remus asked, joining the circle that was forming around Freya. The redhead's grin grew wider.

"That level: Red, 'Arnold the Juggernaut' they called him, if we wanna pass this exam then he's our best bet," Freya explained.

"I was afraid you were gonna say that," Remus groaned.

"You don't disagree though, do you, Remus?" Freya retorted.

"I-I… I guess not," He said, hanging his head.

"Then that makes you the third smartest one here," Freya grinned.

" _Th-third?_ " Thought Remus.

"Anyway, finding the guy won't be a problem, with the trail of destruction he leaves in his wake we'll get to him in no time flat. There is however one real issue-"

"That issue being, even in a five on one fight he'd crush us without thinking about it?" Artemisia interjected.

"Ah," Freya said, holding one finger up at Artemisia "That's where the plan comes in," She continued, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ears. "Everybody, huddle up. It's gonna take all of us to pull this off…"

Arnold was alone. After reaping what little he could from the Underground's stash of collars, he reckoned he had about fifteen to twenty of them rattling around inside his own. He sighed to himself, slightly disappointed at the ease of the endeavour. Once he started prioritising keeping the tokens intact things had gotten a lot less interesting for him. No matter, however, the ordeal was over. Now he sat quietly on a pedestal he shared with an enormous granite statue of somebody he didn't care about. He was left to his own devices, just the way he prefered.

Then the mist rolled in. He noticed it floating down from the roofs and encircling him, and he felt a twang of anger resurface inside him. He just wanted it to be over already. He breathed out the last of his tranquil state of mind and allowed the anger to take over for the coming encounter.

Arnold stood and paced slowly into the centre of the gathering cloud. In the corners of his eyes, he occasionally saw a flickering shadow of what looked like a girl, or a boy, maybe a spider, but he paid no heed to those spectres, only to the one shadow that decided to materialise.

A lone figure emerged from the blue-grey fog. One that Arnold recognised. It was the bug mutant from earlier, which had infuriatingly wormed its way out of his grasp. Lexandra gulped, she was again face to face with the Level: Red and his gargantuan petrifying aura. She steeled herself.

" _Just remember what Freya said, I'll be fine as long as I do what she says…"_

"It's you again," Arnold stated dryly. Lexandra just nodded, the mists growing thicker around them.

"Where're your friends?" The criminal asked.

"Around," Lexandra replied.

" _Don't worry Lexandra, you'll be fine as long as you do what she told you to_ …" Lexandra thought, her inner voice reassuring her of this seemingly suicidal endeavour.

"Are we starting now?" Arnold asked, cracking his knuckles. Lexandra nodded.

 _There was once a time when Arnold was considered by all he knew to be a completely average, middle of the road, five out of ten sort of person. Ever since he was born he'd been quiet and solitary, paying no heed or care to anything. This isn't to say that he was bad, he simply coasted through life doing the absolute bare minimum required of him to succeed. He went through high school and moved on to get an associates degree in automotive technology. All throughout this period Arnold never had a single real friend or relationship, but he got a whole load of shit. Bullies and generally unsavoury characters would often try their hardest for months at a time to get a rise from him and beatings were frequent, but Arnold never reacted, ignoring them, walking away quietly from even the harshest beatings and bottling up all his emotions as best he could for what seemed like no reason in particular._

 _Arnold got a job as a mechanic at a completely middle of the road automotive practice and did the bare minimum to keep his job for many years, that was until he had one bad day. He was working on fixing a simple mechanical failure, and he had a wrench right in the inner workings of the car when he applied slightly too much pressure with his quirk and ended up doing severe damage. He was viciously chewed out by his manager, a man who expected excellence in all things, partly due to his mistake and partly due to the manager being sick of his general mediocrity. That was the day when Arnold snapped, for no reason in particular it seemed, all the negative emotions came out right as the man, in a frenzied cry of rage threatened Arnold with termination. It was in fact, the manager who ended up terminated. Arnold released his emotions in the form of the kind of brute violence that had been practised on him so many times, punching the man so hard in the face that his head flew off and broke the windshield of a nearby car. It was then that Arnold realised his purpose. He spent his whole life being mediocre at everything, but now he found the one thing he was exceptional at. He began his journey as a nigh-unstoppable killing machine with the manager, then he moved on to all his colleagues that witnessed the murder, then all his colleagues that didn't, then all the civilians who witnessed that, then all the heroes who came to stop him after that and simply continued on and on, a steadily progressing engine of death that didn't halt until he worked his way up to the top ten pros in the country, of which he killed one and was finally subdued by another. Being sent to the supreme maximum security prison didn't stop his tirade, either, he killed inmate after inmate, earning up to thirty life sentences while still in jail._

 _Arnold's mentality at this point in his life was simple. He discarded all the impulses that gave him no joy and simply replaced them with the actions that would lead to the most killing being done. He deemed that being part of this exam would allow for the most killing to be done, which lead him to the situation that he finds himself in now._

"I missed you earlier," Arnold said.

" _You'll be fine… Just do what she said… Just do what she said…"_

"This time, I won't." Arnold's attack came in a flash, a blast of air, shot from the hip, came crashing into Lexandra's gut and she was thrown back, her feet leaving the ground for the briefest moment. Words echoed in the girl's mind.

"' _And Lexandra, definitely don't pass out or die or anything stupid like that, or the whole thing is bunk_ ,"

"Freya…" Lexandra whispered to herself. "I know you didn't tell me to do this, but I hope you don't mind…" Lexandra dropped her arms away from her gut. Around her waist, where the attack landed, there appeared to be a band of hardened chitinous material, a large crack having formed over the area around her midriff, and shards falling off to revealed her completely uninjured skin.

" _She made… armour?_ " Arnold though, balling his fists tighter and tighter.

"That's what I did when I was in a hurry, but I can do it a lot better…" Lexandra hummed. Arnold stepped back, gathering strength within himself gradually, he thought to let the girl use whatever useless technique she wanted. Lexandra took a more solid stance. She grit her teeth, straining all over her body. Scales of toughened shell began to spring up all over her skin, forming, arranging and hardening into ridges and plated encompassing her entire body. Soon, from head to toe, the girl was covered in thick dark black-brown armour plates. Her whole body protected, the mutant girl cracked her knuckles and put her fists up around her head, crouching down into a low profile.

"Well, if you're gonna hit me, do it," She growled. Arnold took it as a challenge. His next attack was felt before it was seen. The Level: Red sent the attack right over the girl's block and into the back of her head, sending it all the way down until her nose scraped the dust. The accompanying gust pushed it the rest of the way, as well as kicking up a sizeable dust cloud which obscured Arnold's vision of the carnage he wrought. Or at least, the carnage he _believed_ he ha wrought. In reality, when the dust settled and the point of impact was revealed to him again, it glimmered flawlessly, not a scratch on it. Lexandra brought herself back up, sniggering as she did so, and Arnold felt himself grow angrier. The girl gave the Level: Red a light tackle, more of a nudge.

"You're gonna have to do better than that," She grinned. A left hook came next. It glanced off her arm and crashed into the gnarled geometry of Lexandra's faceplate. Her face was thrown around like a speedball as the attack landed, then the next then the next and the next. A torrent of wind encircled the pair as Arnold's fists flew stronger and faster. All Lexandra did was weather the storm, her guard kept up and her head kept down.

" _Do as she said. Wait for the order. Do as she said…_ " The words whirled around in Lexandra's mind, distracting her from her splitting headache and the blood which quickly pooled in her mouth. With one last thunderous punch, Arnold stood back, staggering from his own momentum. He observed Lexandra as she remained stationary.

"Heh… How do you like that, asshole? My armour's unbreakable," Boasted Lexandra, perhaps a little too hastily. Arnold seemed to grin, though perhaps it was merely an illusion of perspective.

"Your left arm, outward ridge, sixteenth bump down," Arnold said, pointing towards the mentioned area. Lexandra's eyes darted over there, and she saw just the tiniest perturbation. A minute chip, right where one of the Level: Red's punches had clipped her.

"S-so what? That's nothing," She snarled. The Level: Red let his actions speak for him, sending a crashing into the same spot. There was a crunching sound.

" _Crap._ " was Lexandra's only thought. A crack formed along the length of her arm and Arnold slowly drove his knuckle into the impact zone, grinding it against her shell painfully as he did so.

"Unbreakable?" He said in a sarcastic and dismissive tone. "We all break sooner or later, and I'm not gonna stop until you do," Arnold continued, his sentenced punctuated by the next punch, the first in another storm of unrelenting blows which exploded into her.

" _Attacking me like that… nobody can keep that up forever… Freya, I know what you're waiting for now. The second he gives me an opening, I'll counter!_ " Thought Lexandra, the epiphany coming to her, giving her determination to resist.

"You gotta stop sometime, right?" Cried Lexandra, pushing herself harder into the storm of punches. With each attack now, a miniscule shard of her armour flew off and was caught up in the gust, or another crack began to form under the repetitive stress. Yet still, she pushed through it.

"You gotta stop sometime… right?" She said, but the punches didn't stop.

"You gotta stop sometime…" She said. Another punch.

"You gotta stop…"

"Gotta… gotta stop…"

"Stop… Stop it…"

"Stop… " Lexandra said, her voice trembling. Her blood began to dribble out of the grates in her faceplate. Another punch to the face, then the gut, then everywhere else. The cracks began to expand further, spreading out, joining up with each other and forming a single fault which permeated her whole being. Lexandra bit her tongue for as long as she could, but she could take it no longer and screamed, loud enough to give the Level: Red some pause. Lexandra began to stomp around dizzily in the minute breadth the criminal gave her.

"W-when are you gonna… Stop! when?! When's the opening?!" She roared, drips of blood leaking from the joints in her cracked armour shell.

"You don't get it do you?" Arnold spat. "I never stop, and neither do my punches. That's why they call me the juggernaut. Each punch draws air into my arms, and while the pneumatic force drives the attack, it also oxygenates my blood and regulates my internal temperature via cooling. That's why my breathing hasn't slowed, and it's also why I haven't even broken a sweat yet,"

 **-/-**

 _ **Name:**_ _ARNOLD 'THE JUGGERNAUT' SCHWARZMAN_

 _ **Quirk:**_ _PNEUMATIC_

 _The vents mounted on Arnold's shoulder blades can intake large quantities of air. He can use this air to produce pneumatic force, oxygenate his blood and regulate his internal temperature. By carefully balancing these aspects, it is possible for Arnold to continually deliver his superhuman punches for a nigh indefinite amount of time._

 **-/-**

" _C-crap… There goes that idea. Freya… can I have the order now?"_ Thought Lexandra, too delirious to realise that her request met the ears of nobody. The Level: Red's punches began again, this time ripping shards of her armour and digging into her skin. She yelped in pain but strengthened her resolve enough to bring her arms up again. Arnold scoffed, sending another punch her way, then another and another an another.

"Lexandra!" Freya cried from the mists, her voice carrying over the din of Arnold's relentless assault. "Keep going!" She yelled. Lexandra's mind stopped. Her armour was in crumbles, her body was near broken and her will was close to shattering, but with that simple cry she persisted doggedly, simply because it was what she had been told was right. The barrage of punches from Arnold showed no sign of stopping even as they cracked her bones to bits and tore chunks of flesh away from her. She stood firm against anything Arnold threw at her. Anything except for Arnold's final blow. It was of course, not intended to be the final blow, Arnold would have kept punching forever to reach this point. He had simply broken down her defence with the previous punch, and now with her vitals exposed, there was only one place where he knew to go. Right for the head.

His final attack shot through the air leaving a trail of mist behind it. The force collided with her head, dazing her completely for a moment until the momentum began to carry through. The bug girl's face contorted as her head was pushed back in slowed down time, her neck stretched back and back and back some more until it could take no more stress and finally her head was torn from it's resting place. Her now decapitated head careened through the air, leaving a trail of blood behind it. It landed, rolling for a little while until it's hair rest over her still expression.

The fog had cleared, and the Undergrounds were left standing in a loose group aside from the battle, their cover blown. The body that Lexandra's head left behind still stood there, frozen in its defensive stance even as Arnold spat and turned away, advancing towards the rest of the Undergrounds with an aura of pure senseless violence radiating off him.

"F-Freya… what do we do now?" Remus stammered. With their final hope summarily shattered before him, primal fear began to enter into his psyche

"I can't believe it… I kinda liked that girl…" Alex muttered in disbelief, but Freya just grinned. As Arnold's footsteps grew closer and louder, her grin grew wider and her laughter grew more resounding. Arnold stopped.

"You're the first person who's laughed when they saw me coming…" He said in his neutral tone, a tone which suppressed mountains of raw killing intent. "Gone delirious or something?"

"Lexandra, do it now!" Freya commanded, to the utter shock of everyone in the vicinity. To the further shock of everyone else, and to the maximum shock which Arnold could muster within himself in the brief time in which he could react, Lexandra's decapitated head replied.

"Finally!" She said with glee, her body springing into action. It charged at Arnold, the defensive stance forgotten and replaced with a singular desire to move forward. Its wings spread and fluttered violently, increasing her speed with a powerful gust of wind that cleared Artemissia's thickest fog. Arnold hadn't the time to turn around before Lexandra's headless body was right over him.

 **-/-**

 _ **Name:**_ _LEXANDRA MERIAN_

 _ **Quirk:**_ _BLATTODEA_

 _Lexandra's status as a mutant allows her all of the abilities of a cockroach, including the usual upscaled strength and speed that comes with any mutant, she has a plethora of unique abilities among which are flight and the ability to survive for up to twenty-four hours without her head attached to her body._

 **-/-**

"Gotcha!" Mewed Lexandra as she grabbed the Level: Red by the arms. She twisted them around to his back, bending them around and intertwining them with her own until she reached up to his neck and wrapped them around. The Level: Red was thoroughly locked in place, any movement he ordered in his appendages simply sending them closer to snapping right off.

"W-what the hell!" Arnold cried in an uncharacteristic burst of emotion. This lingering, dark feeling was not something he had felt in a long time, not since that run-in with those two pro heroes years ago. Was it… defeat?

Arnold began to intake as much air as he could, the vents on his shoulders roared but sputtered after a while. Lexandra's grip around his arms tightened even further, her monstrous strength pushing all of the air out of them manually.

"Arnold…" Freya began, speaking to the panicked Level: Red in a demeaning tone. "I suppose it's a stroke of fortune that all you strong silent types are so predictable. You see a decapitated head and you just assume victory. Not that it matters, anyway. Without airflow into your arms, Lexandra can overpower you without contest," She beamed nefariously.

"Let go of me! Bitch! I'll kill you! I'll kill all of you! I won't stop! I'll never stop!" He cried in rage, flailing as best he could. The grip Lexandra had around him had long since broken his arms and totally blocked the airflow, now she simply had him restrained. Lexandra's cockroach wings buzzed as Arnold was slowly lifted into the air.

"I think it's time we began phase two of the kill plan, don't you think so, Lexandra?" Freya said, nursing her metal bat.

"Agreed," Said the cockroach girl, mustering up as sinister a look as her cute and innocent looking face could muster.

"And you, Alex?" Freya said, turning to the Spider mutant. He nodded, and the two mutants sprung into action at once. Lexandra first flew high into the air, higher than she needed too, and she dove back down, looping around for flair or for her own amusement as she dove at intense speed towards the site of Alex's creation. From a nearby lamppost, he had made something with his incredibly tensile silk, something that just now Arnold's neck slipped into as Lexandra flew past. The air caught up with Lexandra, shooting past Arnold as he hung in place, and just as Alex pulled the other end of his creation, Arnold was both yanked into the sky and blown back by the force of the wind.

The noose which Alex had crafted tightened around Arnold's neck just as he realised what was happening, he choked and yanked at the thing all he could until the g-forces of him flying all the way around the post and back down to his starting position glued his arms to his sides. With his neck already broken and the life draining from him quickly, Freya met him at the bottom of the loop, bat in hand.

She swung out, timing her attack perfectly to where Arnold struck it with more force than she had struck him. The blow landed right in the spine, and it was enough to snap Alex's noose and send Arnold flying right into the blades of Remus, who had been lying in wait. The ink slashed at his entire body, leaving streaking wounds across him, slicing his tendons cleanly and slicing his vents off at the base.

The final blow was dealt by Lexandra, who had looped back to meet Arnold with her most solid punch. Struck squarely in the chest, Arnold flew back at great speed, screeching to a halt as he collided with a pile of mincemeat that he made himself earlier. The battle was over, and with a resounding and humiliating finish, the Undergrounds claimed victory. They gathered together, congratulatory gestures flying around them.

Arnold was left on his knees as the undergrounds celebrated their victory. Blood dripped down from his chin and his dark greasy hair drooped over his eyes. He grit his teeth, trying to fight to his feet, but any and all attempts to move simply sent daggers of pain through his body and spurts of blood from his copious wounds. His tendons had been cut to bits, and with a last fruitless effort the killer exhaled and sunk down, seemingly accepting his fate.

"Guys! We got him!" Squeeled Lexandra, hopping gleefully with her detached head held under her arm.

"Hey, can you like, re-attach that? Shit's freaky…" Alex grumbled, averting his eyes.

"But… uh… Freya?" Lexandra asked, biding by her teammate's request and popping her head back onto her neck. As soon as the two made contact, a burst of tissue growth re-attached them leaving only a grisly scar around the circumference.

"What is it?" The redhead replied.

"You were banking on him knocking my head off like that weren't you? But Its not like I ever told you it could come off, so how did you know?" The cockroach girl asked.

"Just a hunch," Freya shrugged.

"Wait, you're telling me we risked this whole exam and our own fucking lives on your hunch?" Cried Alex, becoming quickly hostile.

"Well, I did say it was a gamble, didn't I?" She grinned.

"You coulda just asked…" Lexandra pouted.

"Where's the fun in that?" Freya cackled, her eyes glinting with mischief.

"Hey… You…" Came suddenly the stern, quiet voice of Arnold. It sent chills up the spines of the Undergrounds, who all turned to face the injured Level: Red. His body was immobile, damaged beyond repair, and yet his malefic aura still flared, crashing against the examinees terrifyingly. He lifted his head to them. "What are you waiting for? Kill me already," He said, his lips barely moving. His eyes burned with anguish.

"What? You want us to do it or something, dumbass?" Alex spat at the Level: Red. His head sunk back down as the undergrounds approached, encircling around him. There was a long silence as Freya brandished her bat, wiping off some of the blood and staining her shorts in the process.

"I've been ready since the start. Just do it already," Arnold growled, his voice becoming more gruff and haggard as his stamina drained away. He glared at Freya as if directing his last words towards her. She didn't seem moved.

"Yeah, whatever," Freya said. Then, she brought her bat down at speed, swinging full force at the Level: Red. It collided with his skull, sending a thunderous metallic thud and the sound of cracking and splintering bone echoing through the cavernous test environment. Arnold's head was thrown violently around by the impact, the momentum finally stopping with his head hung back, eyes facing the ceiling. But the killer didn't die, instead, his eyes shot open again and he thrust his head into an upright position.

"Is that all you got, bitch?" He asked, spitting blood onto Freya's sneakers. Her eyebrows furrowed in rage, and she turned to her subordinate.

"Lexandra will you hit him already?" She commanded. Lexandra nodded, unleashing a resounding kick to the Level: Red's face. His nose broke and bent and his teeth flew from his mouth as his head was wrenched around from the force, but still, he lived, his chest gently rising and falling with his ragged breaths, and blood spouting from his mouth.

"Tough bastard," Grumbled Alex.

"L-let me try," Remus said, emerging from the back of the pack to right in front of the killer. The ink dripping from his right hand formed a slender black blade, which he thrust towards the killer, aiming to pierce him in the neck and through the spine. Not all went to plan, however. Arnold sprung into action, halting the blade by catching it between his teeth. Though he had by now lost almost all of his strength, the two still struggled for dominance, pushing against each other. The blade began to slice through Arnold's remaining teeth and dug into his gums before he managed to wrench his head sideways and snap Remus' blade clean off. Remus was thrown back in the process and fell onto his ass.

"W-what the hell?! I thought you said you were prepared to die or something?!" Remus cried, scrambling back.

"I never said I'd make it easy on you…" Growled Arnold, spitting the black blade out. It melted mid-flight, mixing with and dirtying the gathering pool of Arnold's blood. "Now kill me already, or don't you have the stomach for it?"

"So, do you guys want me to gas him?… or…" Artemisia suggested, putting her hand on her hip.

"You know what? Fuck this, I'm gonna end it right now," Alex said, stepping forward. Slowly, from the back of his jacket, his six bony spider-like legs emerged, their sharp points glinting. Arnold looked the spider-mutant in the eye, bearing down on the examinee with all his life's rage and fury, but it didn't deter him in the least.

" _Six Leg Assault: Shredder!_ "

The six legs lunged at Arnold simultaneously. The killer suddenly lashed out, biting down hard on one of the legs, his teeth tearing near clean through it, but his grip loosened as the other five dug into his flesh. They pierced his chest, breaking through his ribs and shredding the man's heart and lungs in a flurry of slices. Arnold was held in place for a while, propped up by Alex's spider legs, but eventually, one last gurgling gasp of air escaped through his closed teeth. He slid slowly back along the length of Alex' legs and onto his back. His eyes glossed over, rolling back up into his skull. Arnold finally died, he died a slow, gruesome, bloody, painful death, not from his wounds (though they did help), but instead from suffocation, having choked on his own blood which welled into his oesophagus. The red collar that hung around his neck released suddenly, rolling across the floor, the tokens within rattling all the while.

"That's it then, he's totally dead now, right?" Artemisia asked.

"Gotta be. The collar came off, didn't it?" Said Alex, scooping the collar in question up from off the floor. "That's weird, it's a lot lighter than the other ones. What's up with that?" He wondered, tossing the thing around in his hands.

"Um, Alex, is your spider thingy gonna be okay?" Lexandra asked, pointing towards the leg which yet remained caught between Arnold's rigored jaw, colourless spider-blood gathering around the lips of the killer's stiff corpse. Alex, noticing this, pulled out his leg with great effort. The tip was bent and bloody, almost hanging off of the rest of the leg. The pain just then reached him, he doubled over, unleashing a long pained growl as he nursed the wound.

"Shit… Even dead… This guy is a pain in the ass…" He said through gritted teeth. Alex dropped the Red collar to the floor, for it to be picked up by Remus, who inspected it curiously.

"S-So… I guess this means we're assassins now, right?" He said, looking to the rest of the group.

"Mhmm, and it feels _good_ ~" Artemisia hummed. Freya began to laugh uncontrollably. She threw her arms around Lexandra and Artemisia, pulling them closer around her.

"Everyone," She grinned sinisterly "I believe this is the beginning of a _very_ profitable partnership…"

"ALL PROSPECTIVE EXAMINEES, YOUR TIME IS UP, PLEASE GATHER YOUR COLLARS AND RETURN TO THE STARING AREA FOR GRADING!"

 **To be Continued.**

 **A/N**

 _Hey guys! Merry Christmas/happy whatever :D. Here's a present for you, I'm not dead! I sure took my time with this one though._

 _Surprisingly (to me at least, since they were dragging behind for a while), Underground ended up receiving the most votes after I counted the people who voted via PM. Unfortunately, a couple of votes went uncounted because of I had already started writing by the time they were cast, so I apologise to the people who were a little behind, but I'll account for you when deciding second and third place._

 _This chapter was more trouble than I had anticipated. Getting the character writing to a point where I was happy was more difficult without the same amount of chapters to focus on them as I had with the Phantoms. That being said, I feel as though Im more used to it now, so the next chapters shouldn't be as much trouble (or as time-consuming). If you have any issues with how I'm doing things or how your character was written be sure to bring them up with me, I feel like there's a lot of room for improvement and I'm unsure if I nailed everyone 100%._

 _Oh, and this might be a good time for a disclaimer. With how the story is developing conceptually and creatively, I may end up taking some licence with character's abilities. Quirks, in particular, are subject to some change. Nothing drastic, I won't change the entire spirit of the ability (If a character could say, breath fire, they aren't suddenly going to be telekinetic for instance), just fiddle with some minutia to open them up towards more application. This is gonna be more relevant in the coming chapters, so it's more of a heads up. If you have an issue with this, PM me about it and we can go over the sort of changes I'd like to make to your character (if any at all) and hopefully come to a compromise :)._

 _Also, I changed how my dividers are formatted because the horizontal lines kept dissapearing for no reason :p_

 _With all that out of the way, be sure to leave a review (or PM, if you're so inclined) telling me what you thought, and I'll talk to you in the next one :)_


	5. Chapter 5 :Entrance Exam Arc:

_**[ENTRANCE EXAM ARC]**_

 **Chapter 5: Five of Swords**

It was the center of the test zone. The town square around which fake buildings barely stood in various states of disarray. The remnants of chaos and carnage littered the floor from the battle between criminal and examinee which had been raging here at its strongest. But for now, there was a lull. The number of figures slowly dwindled as the fighting carried on, and now there stood only five examinees and dwarfing them a huge congregation of criminals. This was the predicament that Troupe: Chariot found themselves in.

The five examinees stood around in a circle, each one with their backs to a circular stone fountain empty of all water, which was set in the very middle of the square. Around them were three hundred and sixty degrees of twinkling blue and yellow lights, each one attached to a collar belonging to criminals of various statures and threatening exteriors.

"You think we can take em' all?" Asked one of the examinees. He stood crouched down, resting his arms on his knees and his head on his knuckles. His long black coat barely scraped the ground. "I think we can take em'" He continued, his speech muffled by the gas mask he wore.

"What a dumbass suggestion," Said another one of the Examinees, who stood tall by the other. His shaggy white hair reached down to his nape, which was covered by a dark navy cloak which was worn like a scarf but still tailed down his back to around his feet. "Let's do it," He grinned, his gaunt, ghoulish face peeking over the rim of his cloak.

"Kiri… Raymond… Are you sure that's a good idea?" Asked a third examinee. His more diminutive stature and reserved posture would have made him seem unremarkable were it not for his electric blue skin and faintly glowing red eyes.

"Hadan, please…" Replied the masked examinee. "Call me Ray,"

"Oh… Okay," Answered the small one.

"If you're feeling too scared, Hadan, feel free to sit this one out," The other examinee, Kiri, began. Hadan looked a mixture of confused and relieved. "When I made this team, I looked only for the strongest and most lethal…" Kiri continued.

"R-right," said Hadan.

"But there were only four that were good enough, so we got stuck with you. You really don't matter, you're just filler," Kiri said simply and straightly. "We don't need you,"

"Kiri, that was absolutely barbaric. How's that any way to talk to a teammate? You've no manners at all," Scolded another of the examinees, who stood to face outwards and opposite to Kiri. His eyes were emerald green behind his square glasses and his hair raven black and messy, so he'd occasionally graze his fingers through to straighten it out. He wore a polo shirt and dress slacks, with a dark coat currently slung over his shoulder.

"What, do you pity him Sébastien?" Asked Kiri.

"And why should you care?" Said the examinee next to Sebastien's side. He was a cold and distant looking boy, not even turning to speak to his teammate. His hair was dark and slicked back and he wore formal dress, a suit, and tie, all perfectly tailored.

"If we're to maintain a professional relationship, Kiri, I expect us to act professionally to one another," said Sébastien. "That goes to you too, Damon" he continued, shooting a glance to that cold looking boy to his right.

"Quite frankly, I don't care about a single one of you. Not as allies, friends, teammates, professional partners or anything else, so I'd rather we get this done and I can be rid of you for a time. But if you're going to keep bickering, at least have the courtesy to do it out of my earshot," Damon spat savagely. Sebastian huffed at him.

"I've had enough of this," Said Raymond, eyeing up the churning crowd of criminals. "Our guests are getting restless…"

In the blink of an eye, Raymond was gone, and just as soon there were two loud bangs followed swiftly by the dull thud of men falling flat on their face, bullets lodged deep into their skull. The boy was standing behind the bodies of the two criminals, who already were at the back of the pack, two smoking guns held loosely in his hands.

"Idiot, there he goes rushing in recklessly. This better not become a trend," Said Damon, looking to the other examinees for the first time. He found that he was alone, everyone else having rushed into battle behind Raymond, and he snarled to himself in anger, before begrudgingly joining the fray.

Meanwhile, A crowd gathers around Raymond, who spins his guns back into the holsters on his hip. The criminals look at him and he looks back, and adversarial spark between them. Suddenly, as if tired of the stillness, a Level: Yellow steppes forth from the crowd, batting several Level: Blues our of the way with a pair of enormous hands in his haste. Raymond stared his eager adversary up and down. He had a barrel chest and a pair of thin bow legs juxtaposed with thick trunk-like arms which were topped with gorilla-esque hands. Most peculiar of all, however, was the head. Nestled in a bed of bulbous neck muscles, it was minute and cherub-like, chubby-cheeked, beady-eyed and with a crown of wispy golden-brown hair.

"So, what's your thing?" Raymond asked, resting a hand on his hip condescendingly. "You're really strong and really dumb? Not exactly original…"

The criminal's baby-like brow furrowed in anger.

"You… Dead… Meat…" They growled in a deep drawling voice as if each word were a struggle. The monstrous Level: Yellow grit their teeth and balled their hands into fists. Their muscles began to squirm and flex under his skin as he got ready to attack.

"Yeah, nice to meet you too, bud. Let me guess, the papers called you… Baby Face? Yeah, that's a good one. I want full credit for that," Raymond grinned. Suddenly, the criminal's rage was unleashed. The Level: Yellow roared viciously as he swung his hefty fists around, and each time the criminal's attack would almost hit the boy before he popped out of existence and another bullet would be unloaded into his enormous frame. The criminal gave a final bestial cry before raising both fists up over his head and crashing them down in unison. The attack shattered the cobbles below him and smooshed several unfortunately positioned Level: Blues into pulp, but still the Level: Yellow missed his target. A bullet passed through the base of the criminal's neck at the same moment as a pair of thick combat boots stomped down, taking footing on his broad shoulders. With that shot, the Level: Yellow's enraged cries halted entirely and he was left silent.

"Okay kiddo, nap time," Ray snarked, popping the empty clip out from the bottom of his handgun. The magazine clattered against the criminal's thick skull before hitting the ground. A last groan of air escaped from his pursed lips as he freaked over, stumbling and falling onto his back, crushing another few unlucky Level: Blues beneath his weight before dying himself.

The rest of the Level: Blues stared on at Raymond from the sidelines, awestruck as he flippantly reloaded his guns atop a heap of corpses.

"Was that it?" He said to himself, disregarding his onlookers. "I expected better honestly… Wasn't this school meant to be prestigious?"

The Level: Blues which surrounded Ray began to flee. It started when only one of them turned tail and fled but after but a moment the whole crowd was scattering and scrambling to escape him. He fired a few absent pot-shots into the fleeing ranks, downing a couple of weaker-looking criminals before he decided that they weren't worth the ammo, and tucked his gun away.

" _Well, this is a bust…_ " Raymond thought. " _I wonder how the other guys are doing?_ " The boy scopes around the battlefield, spying for his teammates in the crowd of criminals that still lingered. He found Kiri skirting around a group of Level: Blues and the odd Level: Yellow.

"Hey, Kiri! How're you doing over there?" Raymond shouted.

"Busy," Kiri answered, barely facing back to his teammate as he gave the simple answer. Kiri returned to the task at hand, stepping over a small pile of ash, back into the middle of the growing crowd of blues and yellows. A thin aurora of white energy still hovered about him, gradually dissipating as he went.

"Now, as I was saying… Would anyone else like a turn?" He hummed, a reserved superiority emanating from his being. The boy stopped, picking up a criminal who lay face-first on the ground informer of him, another victim of his ability. He grabbed the man by his long sparse strands of white hair which covered his liver-spotted head, yanking him up and dragging him along. The criminal was roused from his stupor.

"Wha…. What's happened…? What's happened to me….?" He wheezed slowly, as though his lungs were full of dust. Several grotty old teeth fell from his mouth as he continued to speak. "B-boy… Where am I…? Why are you d-dragging me…" He said, grasping at Kiri's leg with long bony fingers covered in loose drooping skin. Kiri became irritated, it appeared, and he stopped dead in his tracks, reaching around his back with what free hand he had. "I… it hurts… my whole body…. I'm so… tired…." The criminal babbled in his demented state. Even his eyes now were shriveled up like raisins, and he collapsed onto the cobbles as the last of his hair was pulled free from the shriveled follicles over his head. As he fell, the audible sound of bones cracking like glass could be heard, and his cries of pain turned quickly into gasps for breath.

"I said… Anyone else? Does nobody want to share his fate?" Kiri asked, pointing to the ancient husk of a human that lie by his feet with the katana he had just then unsheathed. "Very well," the boy grinned smugly as the terrified whimpers from the crowd grew more severe. With one smooth motion, he swung down his blade and drew it over the criminal's neck, decapitating him and thus putting him out of his misery. Barely any blood came from the wound, and the little of what did that ended up on Kiri's sword he wiped off onto his pant leg. "I suppose I'll just start picking at random, then," He said. The aurora of white energy that surrounded him gathered in his hand, forming itself into the shape of a gleaming white scythe as he lunged at the nearest criminal

 **-/-**

 _ **Name:**_ _KIRI JUN_

 _ **Quirk:**_ _REAPER_

 _Kiri can summon a scythe formed of energy at will. The scythe is incapable of dealing direct damage through slashing or bludgeoning, but any person or thing in contact with the scythe will begin to rapidly age at a rate of ten years for every one second of contact. Maintaining the scythe consumes large amounts of energy, so Kiri can only have it out for a few seconds at a time before it becomes too exhausting._

 **-/-**

Hadan followed after Sebastian, who he supposed the most trustworthy or at least the less abusive of his troupe after they had split up in the melee. They had fought a couple of skirmishers that ran around the fray independent of any large group, or, well, Sebastien had. Hadan seemed rather more focused on avoiding combat. But, at a certain point, the usefulness of their evasion tactics wore off. Sébastien and Hadan were quite literally up against a wall. Sebastien was quickly and quirklessly able to knock out the few Level: Blues that had got them there, but not so quick that other criminals didn't take notice. Now a gathering crowd of criminals froze the pair in place.

"Hadan, I know it appears that we're in a bad spot, but I don't want you to be alarmed…" Sebastian said as he watched the encroaching crowd of criminals splinter off and pin the pair against a wall.

"This is bad… Really bad..." Hadan whimpered, shivering as the Blues and Yellows eyed them up.

"Okay, boys! Me first!" Yelled one of the criminals, a level: Yellow, it would seem by the color of the blinking light on his neck. He lunged out of the line at onto the two boys, the elongated snout of his Gharial-esque head pointed towards Sebastian. He opened wide his slim jaw and bit down with razor-sharp teeth onto Sebastian's shoulder. Without his target moving in the slightest, the Level: Yellow had supposed his attack connected before realizing he felt no sensation in his mouth, no taste of blood or resistance from the flesh. His eyes swiveled up to the business area, to find his jaw most certainly intersecting with Sebastian's shoulder. However, rather than biting into the boy, his teeth seemed to phase through him, the contacted areas appearing wispy, white and translucent, not solid like the rest of him. The Gharial didn't have a moment to question this before Sebastian wrapped his arm around the criminal's jaw, binding it shut. The criminal's cries of frustration were muffled, but he wasn't done yet. It wasn't as if he were harmless without his bite. The claws at the end of his muscular arms itched for some action. He swung them both towards Sebastian in a slashing pincer. Sebastian remained deadpan as the attack passed harmlessly through his body. He thrust his arm forward, waving his hand over the Gharial's eyes.

"Overshadow..." Sebastian whispered, and with that, he disappeared from view behind his opponent's enormous reptilian frame.

"Yeah! Did you get em' boss?" Asked another reptilian quirked criminal, this one a Level: Blue. There came no response from the Gharial, who remained hunched over as he was when he was fighting.

"B-boss?" The reptilian criminal continued, placing one hand on his superior's shoulder. Involuntarily, the Level: Yellow lashed out with his powerful claws. The underling was caught dead on by the attack, which ripped the Level: Blue's lower jaw from his body and caused him to erupt in a gurgling scream. The flayed skin and shattered bone scraped against the floor as the Level: Yellow became aware.

" _D-did I do that?_ " Thought the Gharial. " _How could I have? I didn't..._ " He thought, but then an overpowering force erupted from his subconscious and like a torrent of water drowned crashed over his consciousness and drowned out his mind, putting a stop to his thinking. The Level: Yellow doubled over as his mind was assaulted, in his thrashing, he turned to reveal to the crowd as his eyes rolled back in their sockets and his limbs were reduced to limply twitching before it appeared a new consciousness took over.

"A vessel such as this should be adequate to deal with this rabble, don't you think, Hadan?" Said the Gharial, his voice much more reserved and mannered.

"S-Sebastian?" Stammered Hadan.

"Indeed, I took this body for my own, don't be alarmed," Explained Sebastian as he casually crushed the skull of that now jawless Level: Blue with the strength of his new body. "It is simply another facet of my ability,"

 **-/-**

 _ **Name:**_ SEBASTIAN JUDE FORESTIER

 _ **Quirk:**_ GHOST IN THE SHELL

 _Sebastian can become intangible at will in order to pass through solid objects unimpeded or negate physical based attacks. While in this intangible state, he gains the ability to 'Overshadow' people, possessing their body and controlling their actions. He can be expelled by a strong enough will, or If enough damage is dealt to the host body. Along a similar line, any damage done to a host body is transferred to Sebastian, so he must be careful in how he uses this aspect of his power. While possessing someone, he can use their quirk, but only if he had prior knowledge as to what it is and how it works._

 **-/-**

The crowd of criminals took only a moment to be surprised before all running and leaping at Sébastien in his host body. With refined precision he bit into, cut through or thrashed any criminal that got within a foot of him, his jaws tearing through anyone who came from the front, his powerful tail crushing anyone who came from behind and his claws rending anyone coming from either side. Hadan stood there in shock and awe. Despite still being surrounded, the greater threat posed by Sébastien diverted attention away from the unassuming stunted little kid.

Sébastien suddenly cried out in pain. He threw a criminal that was between his jaws into an oncoming group of three, giving him enough time to look down to his ankle, the source of the pain. He found a smirking Level: Blue, and a sharpened length of rebar which went all the way through his leg below the calf muscle. He growled and crushed the Level: Blue under his tail just as soon as he had been noticed but when he turned his attention back to the rest of the crowd the pain from his leg staggered him. Another Blue took the opportunity to leap onto Sebastien's back, and then another after him. Soon enough Sébastien was being piled on by criminals from every which way. His injury, combined with the weight on his back slowed his reaction and gave wider and wider openings for more to jump on.

As more criminals piled on top of him, Sébastien sunk lower to the ground. He had a harder and harder time fighting back as the weight above him grew, and the crowd around him grew to such a large size that new criminals struggled to join in. That was when their eyes turned to Hadan. It was only a few, but even that was more than Hadan could take. They put their hands on their weapons and watched the panic bubble forth from their victim.

"S-Sebastien!" Hadan blurted out in shock. He pressed himself up against the wall and his flaring red eyes averted from the circle of Level: Blues which slowly closed in on him, their eyes threatening and their mouths grinning.

" _Hadan appears to be in trouble…_ " Sébastien thought as he spied the situation from beneath the pile of writhing Level: Blues. He tried to push himself to his feet, but their weight was too much. In response, daggers of pain shot through his body, attacks from the criminals on his back. " _But, it's not as though I can afford to even try and help him when I'm like this…_ _I could always abandon this body, but that would leave me vulnerable…"_ As Sébastien considered, he saw the glint of terror in Hadan's eye. A brief twang of guilt came over him. In truth, escaping would be trivial, but giving up this powerful host seemed a significant sacrifice to the boy. Sebastien's consideration ended there. " _No, I simply can't do it, it's too self-destructive. Sorry Hadan, but I've my own goals to attend to_ ,"

Hadan was beset by a mob of criminals, weapons wielded and quirks flaring. They fell onto him as he curled up in fear, piling on top and readying themselves for a bloodbath, but instead, those on the outside felt a light tingling, crackling sensation. Sebastian watched from the eyes of his possessed body as a faint blue light from within the heap of criminals flared brighter and brighter. Some criminals realized what was happening and broke off from the pile, fleeing for their lives. A blast from within, with Hadan as its source, began to rip through the criminals, vaporizing them as the ball of lightning expanded explosively. Sebastian was shocked as the intense violent force began to throw criminal after criminal off of him. As his assailants were evaporated in mid-air he abandoned his vessel, becoming intangible like a ghost and sinking into the ground, safe from the force of the blast.

 **-/-**

 _ **Name:**_ _HADAN AYANGA_

 _ **Quirk:**_ _DISCHARGE_

 _Hadan constantly and passively gathers a charge from static electricity in the environment. Periodically he can release this gathered charge as a large explosion of electricity. He can control the ability somewhat, but it often goes off involuntarily in moments of great stress._

 **-/-**

Sébastien emerged from the ground not too long afterward. He saw as he poked his head out from the cobbles, a street purged of their enemies' presence. Not a drop of blood or scrap of bone remained of any of their attackers, and the ground still smoked and crackled around the edge of the area affected by Hadan's outburst. The boy himself sat with his arms wrapped around his knees by what remained of the wall which had pinned them in place. The glow in his eyes was much less intense, giving them a mellower color.

"Well done, I suppose," Sébastien said as he pulled himself out from the ground. He dusted himself off, ran his fingers through his hair and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah… T-thanks…" Hadan mumbled, burrowing his head into his knees.

Elsewhere, Damon was on his own, but he didn't care. With his more boisterous teammates distracting the attention of a majority of the Blues and Yellows, he had managed to slip to the outskirts, and about ten feet down into an alleyway where he met with his first resistance. A pair of level blues, apparently sneaking around back in the alley where they could pick off stragglers, and now Damon had bumped right into them. One of the criminals had a disproportionate pair of arms covered in armored plates and topped with glinting claws. He rushed towards Hadan like a gorilla, while his ally took up the rear, his mouth glimmering with a maw of gnarled and oversized teeth.

"Hmph," Damon thought, looking at his opponents and how they had him clearly outgunned. "Nothing for it then," He continued, putting his quirk into action with a mental command.

The ticks from Damon's expensive watch grew farther and farther apart as a wave of colorlessness emanated from his center. Each thing that entered into his encompassing aura slowed down to a halt, their actions delayed such that any movement became imperceptible. Damon stood, equally motionless in the center of his slowed downtime, and began to observe.

"Let's see here… First of two… Some kind of armor slash strength enhancement quirk, it looks like. I can tell by the folds of the fabric of his shirt that the armor doesn't extend past the shoulder blades. Peculiarly, the flaring of his nostrils and position of the mouth and tongue in relation to the rising and falling of the chest is inconsistent; I deduce he likely has breathing issues. Further corroborating this, a strange indent around the right pectoral muscle, likely a scar from an injury, most probably a lung puncture as to explain his breathing. Conclusion; attack the weak point in the chest, deprive him of oxygen and finish the job. A direct frontal assault will likely be blocked due to the power and speed of his enhanced arms, but the apparent slowness of his mind informs me that misdirection will be effective. Addenda to the conclusion, feint for the crotch, deliver an elbow strike to the scarred area and break his ribs before he can retaliate. Kill him while he reels…"

Damon had reached his conclusion, and the greyness drained out of the surrounding world as his quirk was deactivated. The passage of time returned to normal and the Level: Blue continued his charge, oblivious to what had occurred. He raised his arms into the air and prepared to bring them down onto Damon, but Damon reacted on step quicker than him, lunging downward and kicking out with his leg towards the crotch. The Level: Blue saw this, and one of his arms came down to protect the vulnerable area. Before the boy's foot reached its apparent destination, Damon stomped it down to the ground and used the advanced footing to pivot himself forward and around. Damon's elbow was thrust into the scarred wound on the Level: Blue's chest with all the boy's weight and momentum behind it. Daggers of pain shot through the criminal's body instantly, but before the merest squeak of agony could escape his lips a crushing chop from Damon to his windpipe silenced him. The criminal reeled, he clawed and scratched at the crushed portion of his neck trying to open up the airway before Damon delivered several considered tactical strikes to his chest, each one shattering a rib and the next stabbing those newly created shards of bone into the criminal's organs. The Level: Blue's eyes rolled into his skull, and he fell backward.

Despite the grisliness of Damon's attack, the next criminal was not deterred, through desperation or madness he brandished a knife and grinned sinisterly with his mouth full of razor-sharp incisors and misshaped molars. Time once again slowed to a stop, and Damon got to thinking.

"Second of two… Pffft, this one's easy. Look at his hand, that's no way to hold a knife, and there's no support in his arms either. Conclusion, stab him with his own knife." Damon thought, and when time resumed, he did just that, grabbing the criminal by his limp wrist, wrenching his weak arm so that the tip of his blade pointed towards him, and thrusting it deep into his neck. The blade was just about long enough to peek out the other side, sliding through vertebrae to severe the spinal cord and emerge from the other side. The criminal went limp instantly, his hand slipping off the knife and allowing Damon to retract it. The criminal flopped to the ground. Damon was finished with the last of his assailants, who lay dead in a circle around him.

 **-/-**

 _ **Name:**_ DAMON LAROUX

 _ **Quirk:**_ OVERCLOCK

 _Damon can slow down his perception of time in order to give him plenty of opportunities to strategize and absorb visual information. Using it he can create impeccable plans or notice minute details that others would gloss over. Using it too much results in headaches and migraines._

 **-/-**

The boy pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped the blood from his stolen knife. Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw stirring. One of the criminals, the one with the armored arms, hadn't quite died yet. Rather, he laid there till the shock washed over him and now lie seizing as he struggled for air.

"Fucking hell, you couldn't have just died, could you? You're messing my plans up," Damon seethed at the criminal writhing on the floor before him. The Level: Blue could only manage a retching gasp in reply, and Damon scoffed at him.

"Damon!" Raymond called suddenly, interrupted Damon. The boy's brow furrowed in anger.

"What is it?!" He snarled, whipping his head around to see his teammate approaching from the direction of a heap of dead bodies.

"You about finished with your guys?" Raymond said, putting his hand behind his head.

"Am now," Damon replied, dryly snapping the last Level: Blue's spine with the heel of his shoe.

"You know where Hadan and Sebastian got to? Lost em' in the action," Asked Raymond.

"Don't know, don't care. I especially don't know why you're asking me since I told you before that none of you matters to me. In fact, why are you here talking to me at all?" Damon ranted.

"Dude, chill." Raymond shoved his hands into his pockets nonchalantly. For a second, he swore that he could faintly see a vein popping in Damon's forehead, and he grinned smugly.

Far away, at the very top of a faux church tower perched a red collared criminal. From his vantage point, he saw all, the iris of his one piercing red eye undulating as it focused in and out. The criminal's skin was as black as coal, as though it had been burned or charred. It was stretched taut over a bony frame which itself was draped in a tattered black cloak that blended with the grey stone and the dark ceiling. Into the Level: Red's view appeared an unsuspecting troupe, their leader probing cautiously into a clearing while the others followed closely behind. He waited for them all to come into the open before making his calculations.

" _Range two hundred and twenty-five meters… Position two hundred and sixty-two degrees clockwise and forty-three degrees down… The wind is a non-factor…"_ Thought the Level: Red, the measurements coming to him like clockwork.

"Hate to kill em' so young…" He muttered to himself. His voice was gruff and hardened but not without emotion, there was a downward inflection as to imply he didn't quite enjoy what he was doing. "But this is an assassin school, ain't it? Not a' one a' you are innocent, I reckon. Besides, it's you or me, and I got business to attend to,"

The Level: Red opened his mouth wide and took a deep breath in. Then, between the beatings of his own heart, the flash of a muzzle and a puff of smoke erupted from his open maw. One of the examinees in the troupe hit the ground instantly, his head naught but red mist after taking the shot. The faces of the rest of the troupe turned to shock. Some ran to the aid of their comrade, not quite realizing in the brief window of time that he had already died. Others looked outwards, scanning for threats. It was all useless though, four more flashes, and before they had even realized what was happening to them they too ended up dead on the floor.

"Don't worry; I'll come to collect those little coins or whatever in a while. Not like anyone's gonna get em' from under _my_ nose…" Said the Level: Red. It was then that another group of examinees entered his line of sight. A little farther away than that last pocket, in the square. They appeared to be standing triumphantly over a big crowd of fallen or fleeing Blues and Yellows, but the sniper wasn't intimidated. He took another deep breath, the barrel of a gun poking out the corner of his mouth, these ones, he thought, would likely go down like the rest. He lined up his shot.

The Chariots met up cordially in the square, each one having dealt with their share of the previously encompassing horde of criminals, who now lay in heaps surrounding them in their triumphant position.

"Hell of a fight, huh?" Said Raymond, trying to break the ice among the silent Chariots. "It's a shame about the collars though. Can't carry a damn one of em' myself," The boy continued, kicking a collar at his feet. It nudged only a little to the side, and Raymond's toe stung after the hit.

"W-what do you think they want us to d-do?" Hadan muttered shyly. The attention turned to him. "I-I mean… if we can't score with collars then w-what are we supposed to d-do?" He explained, the eye contact making him appear more on edge.

Each of the chariots pondered the boy's questions, with respective levels of frustration at it. Damon was expectedly the most pissed at the development, but Raymond was surprisingly chilled for the situation, even as the exam time was ticking down he viewed the experience as a puzzle or a game and answered with the same gung-ho sort of attitude he approached either of those with.

"Let's just… uh… See what comes, I guess,"

"See what comes? You insufferable-" Damon seethed in reply, but Raymond cut him off.

"Yeah, well, I figure there's gonna be some kind of hint coming, or maybe like a direction? That's usually how it goes," He said.

"How it goes in what?" Damon snarled.

"Games," Said Raymond simply.

"Games? Do you think this is a fucking game? This is real life! Real-life is nothing like a fucking game!" Damon's voice was incredibly condescending under all the anger.

"Au Contraire, life is exactly like a game," Retorted Raymond. He stood up from his usual kneeling position and threw his arms out to either side, gesturing non-specifically to their surroundings. "Look, any second now, we're gonna know exactly what we're contending with,"

"That's bullshit," Damon hissed, turning his back to Raymond.

"Any… Second… Now…"

There was a loud bang, and Sébastien collapsed to the floor.

"W-what? Sébastien?!" Hadan let out a stuttered cry, going to the aid of Sébastien. He lifted his troupe-mates shirt slightly, only to notice the hole burned into it, and a shallow wound surrounded by a large bruise in Sébastien's flesh.

Kiri immediately flipped Sébastien over and looked beneath him. There was a bullet hole in the ground underneath him, though not a drop of blood.

"Good news, Sébastien went intangible before the bullet could deal significant damage. It only winded him, he should be fine," Kiri said matter-of-factly while fingering around in impact crater of a bullet hole. Suddenly, more shots, but Kiri anticipated them, diving in a wild pattern so that each shot just scraped past him. The last in the volley grazed his knee, and with a small spurt of blood, he staggered behind the rim of the fountain in the middle of the square, a reasonably covered position.

"Hate to say I told you so," Raymond sighed, diving and shooting off behind the cover with his ally just in time to avoid a shot aimed at his head. Damon growled furiously, dragging Sébastien roughly by the hair in a begrudging attempt to assist Hadan in carrying him over. The boy wheezed as he regained some lucidity.

"Not to alarm anybody, but I think we're getting sniped," Stated Raymond as he rested his head against the rim of the fountain. Another barrage of bullets brought the group closer to being exposed as they chunked the fountain's stone away.

"No shit," Spat Damon.

"Usually I'm not as vulgar as that, but I'm going to have to agree with Damon here, Ray…" Said Sébastien, his hand still hovering over the phantom wound he received.

"Okay, here's the plan," Said Kiri, a bullet whizzing over his head. "First of all, Damon will use his quirk to pinpoint the position of the sniper, then Sébastien will dive out of cover with his intangibility, safely drawing fire for long enough that the rest of us can worm our way into the alleys. From there we group up and advance on the sniper's position. Raymond… Raymond?" Kiri looked left and right, behind each of his teammates and to every alleyway that was visible to him. Raymond was gone. The others soon noticed it as well.

"Please don't tell me…" Sébastien let out a labored sigh.

"Hey! Asshole! I'm down here!" Screamed Raymond from the roof of an adjacent building. He fired a handgun wildly into the air, drawing as much attention as he could. There was a muzzle flash in the far off distance, and Kiri observed the chimney of the building Raymond was on collapse as a shot rocketed through it, but Raymond was long gone. Now, he had appeared out of the blue on an entirely different building, firing off his gun once again.

"New plan, cover his ass," said Kiri. Damon growled.

Meanwhile, on the roof of the church tower, the Level: Red found something to contend with.

"A fucking teleporter!" He cried. Firing a shot at Raymond. The boy was on another roof before the shot landed. "An intangibility quirk and a fucking teleporter! Just my luck…" He growled. Another shot was fired by the Level: Red, but he had lost faith in his own ability and before he had even finished aiming he scanned for the boy's next position. The shot went how he expected, no contact, but the Level: Red couldn't see him on any of the buildings in his sight. That was impossible, he saw everything. Then he heard a shrill whistle from above him.

"Motherfucker…" He sighed. The 'motherfucker' was hanging from a stalactite jutting out of the cave ceiling. The Level: Red fired furiously, blasting the stalactite to dust and sending shards of it falling it the floor. Raymond was not behind it by then, instead of hanging from another and another, and each was blasted not a second later. With each teleport, Raymond inched closer to his target. He could see him by now, and he could see the red collar around his neck.

"Huh, boss fight, that's what they wanted then…" Raymond supposed before his stalactite was shot into dust. The next stalactite he teleported to was right above his foe, and so close that the two could lock eyes adversarially. Raymond waited for the next shot, which came right on time. Instead of teleporting he simply swung to the away side of the mighty stalactite and let it drop, clinging on as it careened towards his target.

"That's your plan?" Said the Level: Red, feeling it was time for a change in strategy as the stone spike fell from above. He put the sniping to one side, opting instead for a different weapon. Raymond peeked out from the side of the stalactite to see the series of barrels arranged in a rotary pattern which stuck out of the Level: Red's mouth. He gulped.

"Minigun…"

The Level: Red let lose a furious hail of bullets, each at least as strong as his sniper rounds. The stalactite was disintegrated in a storm of lead, and as it broke through to Raymond his body was torn apart by the blast, just in time for his body to splatter against the floor next to the Level: Red.

"Well played, kid," Said the Level: Red, reaching out to inspect the corpse. His fingers scraped against what pocket he presumed the token to be in before the entire cadaver collapsed into ash.

"Well played indeed," Came a voice from behind the Level: Red.

" _He's behind me?! How? I saw his corpse splat against the floor in front of me, so how is he behind me?_ " Sniper thought frantically, a bead of sweat forming on his brow. He felt a shaft of cold metal press up against the back of his bald head.

"Howdy, Sniper. You know what this it?" Asked Raymond rhetorically. 'Sniper' opened his mouth to answer, but Raymond spoke over him. "That's right, it's an MRI Desert Eagle .50 AE, occasionally abbreviated to Deagle or just Deag, if you like. It's pretty old fashioned by today's standards, but it's iconic, and I find it gets the job done pretty well," The boy said, the dumb grin on his face palpable even behind his mask.

"Pffft. That's exactly the type a' gun a kid like you would use. Not that it matters what kinda fukn' gun it is, from that range you could kill me with a slingshot…" Mused Sniper. The level: Red raised his arms slowly, sensing the sudden shift in the power dynamic.

"That's funny. You're putting your hands up like you think there's any chance I won't kill you," Raymond snarked.

"If you're gonna, then you should, ASAP" The Level: Red replied. Raymond sighed.

"Sure thing," Raymond hummed, his finger quickly tightening around the trigger. Just a hair faster though, the Level: Red's throat suddenly expanded as some kind of silver cylinder was ejected with force up from his esophagus and out of his mouth, trailing the criminal's slobber. Ray fired his round, aiming for the criminal's head, but instead, it pinged off of the object which he had regurgitated. As the fist-sized metal thing spun around in the air, Raymond had only a split-second to observe it.

" _Ah, a flashbang,_ " Raymond mentally observed as the blast of light and sound from it erased the world before him. Nothing could be seen but intense burning white and nothing could be heard but an all-encompassing shrill ring. " _Blind… Can't teleport..._ " Raymond thought as he began to stumble, trying to navigate by touch alone, but all he could feel was the dull thud of the Level: Red's counter-attack against his face and the sensation of his weapon being wrenched out of his hand. Ray couldn't even see the muzzle flash or hear the explosive bang of his own gun being emptied towards his direction. He felt fierce stinging pain as bullets began to graze him all over, and he reacted, instinctively rolling and weaving away all while trying to minimize the size of his adversaries' target. In his blindness and his deafness, however, he didn't notice that he had tipped over the edge of the church's tower till he hit the cobbles below.

The resounding crack of his own bones managed to rouse him from his dazed state, which to him appeared the silver-lining in this predicament. At least he fell pretty well. Another 45 degrees around and he would've had to scoop his brains up off the ground, luckily the fall had just fucked his arm up, and it wasn't even his good arm. The boy leaped to his feet athletically, undeterred by his injury. He turned his head up to the top of the church tower from which he had fallen.

"How did you miss, I was five feet in front of you!" He smirked.

"My aim ain't so good in my hands," The voice of Sniper called back down to him. His silhouette appeared on the precipice of the tower. The criminal tossed the stolen gun back down to the boy, which shattered upon hitting the cobble, its empty magazine landing at Ray's feet. It was then he realized he was out of bullets, and more importantly, he was out of guns.

The Level: Red appeared to rappel down from his high tower, a grappling hook disappearing into his throat as his heavy boots thumped against the stones over the path.

" _Okay Ray, this gun thing is just a minor setback, there's no way this scrawny joker is gonna beat you mano-a-mano..."_ Ray monologued, his hand reaching around to the sheaths on his back. Sniper smiled a wide disturbing smile before his mouth unhinged and a pair of shining grey shotgun barrels emerged. "Just what the fuck is up with your quirk!" Ray exclaimed, barely ducking out of the way of one of the Level: Red's blasts.

 **-/-**

 _ **Name:**_ _JONATHAN "SNIPER" DOE_

 _ **Quirk:**_ _Armoury_

 _Sniper's gullet houses a variety of weapons which he can call upon at will by controlling the muscles lining his throat. These weapons include the likes of (but are not limited to) a high-powered sniper rifle, a compact mini-gun, a double-barrel shotgun, a variety of grenades, a flamethrower and more. He can add more weapons to his collection via consumption or he can eject or digest them to clear space for new weapons._

 **-/-**

Hot shells tumbled from between the Level: Red's teeth as he fired volley after volley of buckshot towards a frantically ducking and diving Raymond.

" _Crap! I can't close any distance with attacks like this!_ " Raymond though, his hand still gripping the handle of the blade fastened against his shoulder. It took a few more volleys to connect the dots in his brain. " _Oh yeah, I have a quirk, don't I?_ "

Raymond disappeared from before Sniper, and for a moment there was silence. All was not calm, however, the Level: Red's keen senses still clearly felt a threatening presence in the vicinity, and it was coming from behind. The criminal whipped around, his tattered cloak waving as he did so. He saw in front of him Raymond, holding out a blade ready to slice at his throat. The Level: Red grinned.

"Bah! Don't you think I'm wise to your tricks, kiddo? That's clearly a fake, just like the corpse from before! You're gonna show up behind me-"

Sniper's epiphany was interrupted when the 'fake' Raymond clocked him in the jaw. The shotgun slid down his gullet as he stumbled back, into the arms of Raymond, the real one this time, who quickly got the Level: Red into a solid headlock.

 **-/-**

 _ **Name:**_ _RAYMOND JAMUS_

 _ **Quirk:**_ _SHOCK TROOPER_

 _Raymond can teleport, and leave a clone in his place. The clone responds to his commands and will disintegrate into ash once it is destroyed or injured. The teleportation is limited only by his vision, if he can't see, then he can't teleport._

 **-/-**

"You were correct when you assumed I was gonna show up behind you, but you were wrong when you thought my clones couldn't hurt you, dumbass," Raymond spat. The Level: Red grimaced as he struggled to escape the boy's grasp. Clearly, the two's physical strength was incomparable. Raymond's clone stepped up to bat, delivering the Level: Red a savage boot to the guts, giving the criminal a reflux and an explosion of pain through his body.

"B-bastard kid..." He sputtered.

"That's what you get for shooting at me with my own gun, scumbag," Ray growled. He placed his blade under the criminal's chin and held his head up.

"K-kick me like that again..." Seethed Sniper. "See what comes outta my mouth, I dare—

The criminal was interrupted when Raymond obliged him, delivering the Level: Red another boot to the stomach. Snipers laugh was stifled by the sound of his retching as he coughed up another slim grey canister, which dripped with mucus as it was propelled from his mouth. Raymond's clone reacted with prepared quickness, whipping a knife from its boot and slashing the mysterious canister right from the criminal's mouth.

"Flashbang? That trick won't work a second time," Said Raymond, tightening his grasp around Sniper's shoulders.

"No? Heh… Kid's like you need to learn to pay more attention," Sniper grinned. The canister's freshly cut open halves rapidly began ripping themselves apart with the force of expanding gas, thick black blinding smoke exploding out from it in a quickly forming enormous cloud. A tail of smoke grazed against Raymond, and in the sudden shock, he unhanded the Level: Red, instinctively teleporting to the top of the closest building, and finding himself perched on a chimney. The gas lingered and swirled around, forming a ball into which could not be seen.

"Smoke grenade? That's was your plan?" Growled Raymond, frustrated that he fell for it so succinctly. "Well, I suppose he figured I can't teleport if I can't see… That and a regular grenade would've just got cut to hits before it could go off…" Sighed Raymond, putting his head into his hands. The fact that he'd been outsmarted stung, but he had bigger things to worry about. He heard banging, the sound of a shotgun going off. Moments after two clones stumbled out of the cloud, dissipating into ash just as quickly. "It's probably alright though, sure I can't see into the smoke, but he can't see out of it, which means until that cloud goes away we're at a stalemate…" Raymond pondered. It was when he took a break from pondering his next move that he noticed a curious thing. In the cloud, there was a thin red light glinting against some of the smoke particles. He traced it with his eye, apprehension gathering. The red light suddenly blinked out, and Raymond breathed a sigh of relief.

There was a bang and a flash from within the cloud. Raymond looked to the left and right confusedly before feeling slight wetness at his flank and the familiar pungent odor of blood, his blood, it seemed. The boy tried to sputter something out, but the words didn't come to him. He grasped at his open wound, feeling yet more blood pooling at the back of his throat. He toppled over, landing back-down onto the tiled roof below the chimney.

The force from the blast had dissipated Sniper's shroud, but it didn't matter to him anymore. He found himself chuckling as he stomped through the last wisps of grey at his feet.

"You thought I couldn't see ya, huh?" The criminal laughed. "As if. This eye a' mine, the red one? Ain't what you'd call biological. Lost the original, ya' see, and I thought if I was gonna get a new one I might as well put some bells n' whistles on there, like seein' fer miles, or in infrared light, that sort'a thing…"

Raymond heard the Level: Red chattering from his prone position on the roof. His attempt to crawl away had thus far been less successful than he had hoped, and trying to hold in his blood was proving fairly awkward considering he had one free hand and both an entrance and an exit wound to apply pressure to. He let out a labored sigh and a grunt of pain. He saw Sniper hop up onto the chimney top just in time for what looked like a grappling hook to disappear down his gullet. The Level: Red took a casual step down from the chimney and Raymond froze in his attempts to crawl away, slowly and pathetically rolling over onto his back. Sniper took a couple more threatening steps towards the immobilized Raymond, his heavy boots clattering against the roof tiles. Raymond was stuck, totally stuck; he had to think of something fast.

"Hey, you ever read 'The Art of War'?" Raymond spluttered out.

"You're stallin'" Sniper answered automatically. He continued at a steady pace, regurgitating a shotgun as he did.

"Nah, it's a legitimate question…" The boy replied.

"Fine. No, I ain't'" Snapped the criminal.

"Well you should, it's a good book first of all, but second of all it'll teach you one important lesson in particular," explained Raymond.

"And that would be?" Said Sniper, with sarcastic curiosity.

"' Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak,'" Raymond quoted. In a sudden burst of unexpected motion, the boy slapped the ground to either side of him with his hands, pushing himself up with the force and flipping around in mid-air. Mid-arc, the boy popped out of sight.

" _Teleported! Shoulda fukn expected that, huh?_ " Sniper asked himself as he jumped into action. The Level: Red flicked around, only for a realization to strike him as Raymond's clone popped into existence.

"I can read you now boy! It's a double bluff; you're right where you started!" Sniper cried. He was correct. Raymond had teleported twice, but the Level: Red's body wasn't as quick as his wit. The boy had gotten a knife from somewhere, Sniper saw as he turned his head, and Raymond slashed the criminals across his back, barely cutting through a cross-section of his tatty cloak and leaving a long scratch over his body. Not good enough. The criminal whipped around and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him in and pushing his face right up to the barrel of the shotgun.

"I gotchu' now boy!" Sniper yelled.

"I respectfully disagree," Raymond quipped, fumbling around with his fingers. There, on the bottom of the knife's handle, he found what he was looking for. Sniper didn't care for the boy's smart ass remarks and prepared to fire two rounds of buckshot right into the kid's face. A panicked Raymond flipped the hidden switch on the hilt of his blade, and there was a quick sound like metal sliding over metal and hitting flesh. Sniper was stunned, the shotgun slid back down his throat rather than firing as he intended, which meant something bad. He took a moment to inspect the source of the issue. The knife that Raymond slashed with truly didn't cut that deeply at all, but when he whipped around and grabbed the boy the blade had apparently kept its position pointed towards the Level: Red's body. He grabbed the boy's hand too, obviously, so he couldn't just stab him, but that was slightly irrelevant now that the knife had extended. With the flip of a switch, the blade grew from around five inches in length to more than sixteen, enough to put it all the way through Snipers body. The Level: Red coughed up a spattering of blood, and Raymond smirked under his mask.

"T-this is bullshit… fukn' extendin' swords and shit… and fuck, how were you even leapin' round' like that, there's a hole in you! I can see through to the other side!" Sniper stammered. He let go of Raymond as the strength left his hand and tripped over his own feet, falling back onto the chimney block that Raymond had earlier fell from.

"Heh, you're right to wonder…" Raymond said, examining the wound himself. "But to be honest with you, pain like this, hell, pain in general… I like it. It makes me feel alive… gives me a sort of rush that I can't describe…" The boy hummed.

"Kid, you are really something fucking else, you know that?" Sniper growled.

"Don't interrupt me you ass, I'm not done yet," Raymond quipped, brandishing something from his pocket. He gripped it firmly in his hand, his thumb primed to push over the top of it. Sniper thought he could see the glinting of the light from a big red button atop the device.

"Figures," Sniper sighed.

Raymond pressed down on the red button of a detonator, and Sniper watched a thing blue signal light travel down the wire attached to the detonator and along the ground. It snaked up from behind him, traveling up his back and around his neck to its destination right by the side of his head. It was a white, plastic-ey and vaguely rectangular blob which was stuck to the wall and partially wrapped in brown paper. There was a label printed onto the paper, which Sniper had just about enough time to read.

"Composition C4… You shit," Sniper said. He panicked and dashed forwards, ducking and tripping over some of the fuse cord. He put his hands over his head and braced for the coming detonation.

A blast of white heat and dark smoke erupted behind the Level: Red, burning at his cloak and thrusting him forward with explosive velocity. He tumbled and skidded over the floor but found his footing and he turned and ground to a halt.

Raymond ignored the screaming pain in his abdomen. He hadn't the opportunity to recover, the opening was now. He charged down the Level: Red as he was still staggering from the explosion, blinking forward a step for momentum, and at the moment it appeared he criminal might be able to get a shot in edgewise, the boy tackled him with all the force he could muster. Sniper's legs gave way from the impact, and the pair fell from the new precipice created by the blast.

The pair tumbled in mid-air, but Raymond wasn't done yet. He grabbed the Level: Red by the neck and tangled himself around, getting the criminals head in a solid lock while he still snarled and thrashed for dominance. Then, he blinked a few feet into the air, leaving his clone behind to maintain the grab. They all hit the ground in ascending order, Raymond's clone colliding first, who then Sniper who was still in the hold despite his best efforts. Raymond came down last, and with a flying elbow to Sniper's gut, he hit the ground at a glancing angle and skidded a couple of feet away.

"Grrgh… You fuckin' kid," Sniper seethed, sputtering and reeling from the falling strike to his gut. He tried to turn his head or tumble away from the clone, but his motion was locked by its hold. Without the ability to move his head, all his guns were stuck looking straight up.

"That went… Better than expected…" Raymond grunted as he tried and failed to stand up. His gunshot wound was ripped open even further by the bursts of extreme action, and the pain was now even more debilitating.

"What now, you dumb shit kid?" Sniper snarled, thrashing weakly. "You probably can't even walk over here, and this clone's in rigor mortis or some shit…"

"Well, I got this one idea," Said Raymond. Despite the pain, he managed to bend over and reach down to his boot, pulling from it another small knife. Once again, he took a short glance at the space above Sniper.

The criminal saw Raymond appear suddenly above him, thrusting the knife downwards towards his throat. He let off a panic shot, which scraped right by the boy's ear as he fell. The trajectory of the boy's fall remained unchanged by Sniper's last attempt, however, and with a final growl of rage, the knife was plunged into the criminal's throat.

Sniper let out a long gasp and appeared to stop moving. Raymond, though he found keeping himself upright difficult, kept his weight on the blade, and just to be sure, brought it out and stabbed down again. This time, Raymond noticed that his blade stopped on something. It felt like metal.

" _Huh… Stab the guy with a 'guns in his throat' quirk in the throat and you hit a gun… Who'd a' thought?_ " Raymond thought. Sniper suddenly surged with bright yellow sparks. They burned at the startled Raymond's thighs, turning his clone to ash and throwing the boy off of Sniper's body. " _That's no ordinary gun…_ "

"I had really hoped I wouldn't have to use this…" Sniper gurgled raspily. He rose to his feet like Nosferatu, the sparks growing brighter. He turned his head up, and a long, shimmering barrel slowly wormed its way out of his open mouth, wires and glowing tubes trailing off it. "You know what this is?" Sniper mimicked cockily.

"Can't say I do…" Raymond said, transfixed on the weapon.

"It's a Gauss Rifle, specially designed and state of the art. It uses magnetic coils to propel superheated plasma at continuous high velocity. Sure, it takes a while to gather enough energy for even a single shot, but I always leave it on in case of emergencies. I call it the 'Assured Destruction Cannon'," Cackled Sniper.

"Meaning?" Raymond asked, snarky even in dire situations.

"Meaning you're fucking dead, kiddo," Sniper roared. His whole body pivoted down as if having this weapon out was akin to affixing a steel rod to his spine from his neck. He fired his shot, and the plasma screeched with heat and burned with light as the ballooning wave of energy discharged from the Gauss Rifle. This looked like it for Raymond, by all metrics that the boy could calculate, he was fucked. The paralysis from his shock lingered in his muscles, so he had no control over his movements even if he fought and screamed to move but an inch. The shrieking white light had long since overcome his entire field of vision, so his teleportation wasn't going to work either. The boy had no choices remaining; he simply closed his eyes and gave in to the searing heat as Sniper's beam came closer and closer to enveloping him by the millisecond.

 _Jonathan Doe was a soldier, once, and a damn good one at that. He felt as though he was meant for it. He could fight, kill, and follow any order with machine-like obedience and efficiency. His campaign with the military was long and fruitful, and the enemies he dispatched were many, but there came a time when it tired him to kill. A time when he'd wrapped around and almost felt sorry for his victims._

 _This came to a head one day, an operation to clear out an enemy facility like any other, or that's what he'd thought. When the doors were bust down and the first people killed, Jonathan realized something which horrified him more than he thought he had the capacity to be horrified. This was no 'enemy facility', but a civilian hospital. There may have been enemies here once, they may have been cared for and sent back out into battle against him, but now as he held his weapons to these 'enemies' he saw only mothers, fathers, daughters, sons, the elderly and the charitable. He had drawn the distinction between people and enemies before, and you could say he still did after that. In fact, the only real change in him was where the line was drawn._

 _His weapons were turned to his superiors, the ones who had ordered the war crime, as he saw it. He didn't get far though, as only one man who hadn't thought it through. No blood was spilled by him then, despite the desire being righteous. He was court marshaled and dishonorably discharged. His turnabout hadn't saved the lives of those people, it had only disgraced him and left him detained. But what had changed was that he had time to think._

 _Jonathan bided his time, waiting in his detention until the time was right. He escaped a little before his superiors and previous comrades returned, and he was sure to pay them a visit once they got back. It was during their heroes welcome when he struck, having accumulated all the destructive weaponry and murderous fervor he required to carry out his act._

 _It was called a massacre, a disaster even. It was performed with machine-like efficiency. In a great ball of fire and destruction, he ended each of those men and allowed the flames to burn at his skin and make him anew. When he emerged, his deed done, he was no longer Jonathan, he was a villain, and glad._

 _His vengeance tirade only ended when he met his match in a coordinated attack by a small army of heroes and law enforcement. Having been taken in once again, he sought the freedom to carry out his righteous duty as a great villain, which has brought him here._

The beam subsisted. Raymond was absolutely sure his life was over. All he could see was white. Perhaps this was the afterlife? He thought that hell would be a little darker. Then he came to his senses. Somehow, someway, he hadn't died yet. His vision came back to him, and he was kneeling in the same street where he and the Level: Red had been fighting. Sniper stood across from his, the smoking and red hot barrel of the Assured Destruction Cannon hanging out his mouth. His opponent's body convulsed strangely, but he didn't have time to think of that.

Raymond's thoughts turned to his own condition, which was when the pain hit him. It was a searing hot and sharp pain, from the entire left side of his body. He realized he couldn't feel the arm on that side, and took a glance over. He had expected this, that he wouldn't have emerged unscathed, and the shock stopped him from being too beat up about it, but Raymond's arm was gone, blasted off his body, and the searing stump gushed blood intermediately.

"W-what the fuck… What the fuck is happening to me?" Cried the Level: Red. His speech was slurred and out of control. He staggered wildly as the severely injured Raymond just watched on, the shock fogging his mind and delaying any action. Suddenly, with a final cry, Sniper doubled over and Sebastien's ghostly form was ejected from his body.

"S-Sébastien?" Raymond muttered.

"Looks like… I overshadowed him… Just in time…" Said the boy, clearly out of breath. With the aid of his possession ability, it seems that Sniper's head was turned just enough at the last moment to avoid incinerating Raymond in his entirety. He was thankful, to say the least.

"Ray, you dumbass, that's what you get for running off by yourself," Scolded Kiri, as he leaped from the roof of a nearby building and touched down right by his fellow Charioteer.

"Kiri… You might not wanna stand there; you'll get my blood on your shoes…" Raymond choked out a laugh.

"Are you worried about your wounds?" Kiri asked.

"Well, yeah…" Raymond replied, glancing at the swath of his body that was burned away. He was filled with shock to see that the injuries had closed up all at once, and now a rough-looking layer of scar tissue was in their place. "M-my wounds?" Raymond muttered confusedly. A glowing white scythe dissipated from Kiri's hand as he offered his explanation.

"I used my quirk to age them into scars, it's a surprisingly simple trick," He said. Sniper faced off against Sébastien.

"Okay, kid, I saw you're intangibility quirk earlier, and I'm mighty impressed but I've been plotting this whole time to see how to get around it, an' I got a theory…" Said the Level: Red.

"Oh, do tell," Sébastien replied, perhaps a tad too lightheartedly.

"I'm thinkin' that in order to become intangible, you get rid of all your particles mass, right? That way you cant be interacted with…" Sniper detailed as the Assured Destruction Cannon was put away and a more immediately dangerous weapon was regurgitated in its place. "A massless particle can still transfer energy, though, unfortunately for you, which means even if you're intangible I can heat you up as much as I like!" Sniper roared, and an accompanying jet of flame flew out of his mouth, striking Sébastien in the shoulder. Even after going intangible, burns transferred to his persons.

" _So he's right… Even if only a little…_ " Sébastien thought. He had wondered if the criminal's hypothesis was correct as it was relayed to him, and the comparatively minor pain showed that it was to a certain degree. The boy sunk into the ground, away from the Level: Red's attack.

"What's the matter? Runnin' away?" Sniper sneered as flames wisped around the corners of his mouth.

"No… Tagging out," Said Damon, opening the door of a nearby faux building and stepping between Sniper and the hiding Sébastien. The boy loosened his tie. Sniper just grunted and growled at the boy, shooting another jet of fire in the direction of his opponent. Damon could read the Level: Red's every movement, he had all the time in the world to do so. The boy closed the gap between them is not too many strides and struck at one of the Level: Red's copious bodily faults. The criminal roared in anger, swiping at Damon fruitlessly. In hand to hand combat, Damon dominated Sniper. Each blow was placed with the utmost care and attention as if each one took hours on their own to plan and act out, which they may well have. Sniper was tossed about helplessly, each of his weakest points struck in succession. A final chop to the neck sent his tumbling back.

"I've had… Enough of this shit…" Sniper seethed. He sent a barrage of flames Damon's way, but he had seen that coming. The boy whipped his coat off and swung it with all his might. The flames were diverted away at the gust, and what stray licks might've made it to Damon were doused by that same wind. The coat was of course ruined, to Damon's chagrin, but he had avoided most of it. Sniper gave a disapproving grunt, looked at the five troupe members out-numbering him and made a tactical retreat. Sprinting madly, the Level: Red turned a corner and dove into the nearest building. It just so happened to be the faux church, the one where he had previously perched upon. He hadn't the time to think about the coincidence when another set of footsteps drew his immediate attention. It was Hadan, leading in the rest of the group who took formation among the churches pews.

"You're cornered" Scowled Kiri.

"So fucking what if I am?" Sniper snapped.

"Hadan?" Sébastien inquired. The boy intuitively knew what he meant. Though he was a little apprehensive, he stepped up before Sniper, who quickly regurgitated his rifle and pointed at his.

"I wouldn't do that…" Hadan whimpered. Before Sniper could get a word in edgewise, the boy exploded. Hadan released his pent up energy, loosing a barely directed blast of bright blue electrical energy at the lightning rod of a weapon wielded by the Level: Red, who was helpless to avoid it. He convulsed and screamed as the electricity surged through him, he bled at the eyes and frothed at the mouth, jittering, and seizuring. When the last of the energy had been released, he was but a smoking husk on the floor.

"Finally…" Murmured Raymond in relief. The Level: Red had finally died. He took a single step forward to retrieve the 'loot' as he thought of it, before being stopped by Kiri.

"Not dead yet," Kiri stated in a serious tone. "Collar hasn't come off,"

Raymond realized that Kiri was right, and stumbled back a bit as the seemingly lifeless body of the Level: Red sputtered into motion.

"That dumbass kid…" Sniper laughed. His body still reeled from the force of the shock he received. "All that electricity woulda' killed a fella' normally… But I got a place to put it…" His laugh degenerated into a sinister growl. Yellow sparks encompassed the Level: Red's form and the familiar silhouette of the Assured Destruction Cannon was seen against the stained glass window.

" _N-not that…_ " Raymond internally whimpered. He got phantom pains from his incinerated left arm. The rest of the troupe saw it in action too. Hadan realized too late what he had done, given Sniper just enough charge for one last shot of the Assured Destruction Cannon. Sniper prepared to fire, and the Chariot's said their prayers, all but Kiri, who had one last trick up his sleeve.

"Not so fast," Exclaimed Kiri smugly. "You sure you wanna aim that at us?" He elaborated. He gestured up above Sniper, and the Level: Red's eyes widened at what he saw. A glowing white scythe was imbedded into the wooden scaffolding above him which supported the tower, and in an instant, the beams looked like they were hundreds of years old. They buckled, the temporary construction barely meant to last a year and constructed with the foreknowledge of wanton destruction collapsing under the weight of the heavy stone. The tower fell down on top of Sniper.

There was no going back on the attack that late, Sniper was forced to release his blast into the ceiling, well away from any of the Chariots, just to save himself from being crushed to death. Stone was melted into nothing a boiled into vapor long before it reached Sniper. Kiri grinned triumphantly, but Sniper furrowed his brow in determination. He wasn't done yet.

Fighting against the recoil of the blast, Sniper slowly brought the beam down, blasting away more and more of the building as he did so. The beam was encroaching towards the Chariots, fast. Kiri's grin turned to a grimace as he saw the quickly descending beam of white-hot death.

Raymond thought quickly, the beam was descending on the group faster than any of them could react to it, but Raymond had two things, a bare sliver of his vision, and an idea. Raymond expended the very last of his energy, blinking around like a madman and tackling each charioteer with a squad of his own clones, himself included. When the last still definitely lethal dregs of the Assured Destruction Cannon fell upon them, the clones were all vaporized, but they had held long enough to save the lives of the troupe. Each escaped with only non-life threatening burns. The screeching ceased, the light faded and the heat dissipated in the faux steeple. Heavy, labored breaths escaped the mouth of Sniper, which navigated their way around the cannon hanging from out of his mouth as they escaped into the air. The church in which he and the Chariots stood off had been obliterated by his attack, however, the stubborn kids remained, ashes of Raymond's sacrificial clones dusted their feet.

"You're done," Muttered Kiri. "That attack took too much out of you, the five of us can kill you before you recover, so just give yourself up and we'll kill you quickly,"

"Bullshit," Snarled Sniper. "You think I can't smell a bluff, kid? If you could kill me you'd've done it already. Even if ya ain't dead yet, that attacked fucked you up bout' as much as it did myself," Sniper grinned. He staggered back slightly, coming to rest against the wreckage of the wall behind him, leaning against it while keeping his cannon pointed at his opponents.

"What are you talking about? The attack never even hit us," Kiri snapped.

"Sure, sure, I suppose the beam didn't get to ya'… But there's no dodging heat, light, sound, exhaustion, all things perfectly capable of fucking a man up," Sniper quickly retorted. Kiri gritted his teeth in anger and tried to take a furious stride towards the criminal. His muscles, however, did not respond.

" _W-what?! Why… why won't my legs move?_ " He thought, focusing all his will in a vain attempt to bring about any movement at all. Still nothing. " _Is it a side effect of the beam? Or… or is it… shit…"_ Kiri continued. He realized his predicament. He wasn't poisoned or paralyzed, simply too fatigued to move. He hadn't seen it for his pride, but reality eventually set it. " _Keeping my scythe out for that long…_ " Kiri's thoughts wandered. " _I guess it didn't do me any good in the long run…_ "

The backfire of Kiri's quirk, intense exhaustion, combined with the weariness wrought from his injuries finally fully hit the boy, what adrenaline he had fading away. He lapsed, falling to the floor in a heap, the laughter of the Level: Red prevailing in his mind.

"K-Kiri?!" Raymond cried. The boy shifted around in agitated fashion, restricted by his pain and what little energy he had left. He turned to the rest of his allies but was shocked at what he saw. Hadan and Damon had already collapsed silently behind him, seemingly succumbing to their injuries.

"Hadan… Damon… Get up, will you?" Raymond pleaded.

"A got a fucking headache, leave me alone… Idiots…" Damon snarled, his voice trailing off into unconsciousness.

"S-sorry… Raymond… I gotta recharge…" Hadan followed, not long after slipping away as well.

"Sebastian?" Raymond called out. The boy was already gone, his unconscious body slowly slipping incorporeally into the ground beneath them as his eyes fluttered closed.

"Guys… Naptime ain't for a while yet. If you don't get up… we're gonna lose… that would be… ah… fuck it…" Raymond said. Finally, he too fell to the ground and joined his team in their collective comatose state. Sniper threw his head back and breathed a sigh of relief. Looking at the fallen bodies of his foes, he felt a light cackle coming on.

"Hah… Just like I said. Yall may have strong quirks and quick wits, but yall're also stuck with them little kid bodies. Just ain't got the fortitude to match a vet…" Said the Level: Red. "Still, that… was closer than I'd've liked," He mused. The criminal managed to get up to his feet, trudging lethargically along until he found himself kneeling by the sunken body of Kiri. "I could kill ya's. Just like that, wouldn't be tough when yer' like this. But… I feel like I've had enough a killin' dumb kids who don't really know any better,"

The Level: Red turned his eyes upwards, tracing the path of destruction carved into the cavern by his final attack. Eventually, his eyes settled on the observation booth. "Besides, I won't be wanting for any of those tokens you got, I believe I see another path outta here," The Level: Red concluded. He brandished his grappling hook.

"Daibutsu…" Hummed the Grim Reaper.

"What?" He spat back, between drags of his cigar. Scarlet rolled her eyes at his dismissiveness

"Could you perhaps explain to me what just happened?" Said Timsh.

"By the looks of things, a fight from down there found its way up here," Daibutsu said simply.

"Ah, yes. But would you care to explain the practical effect of such an action, as is demonstrated before us?" Timsh asked.

"Big laser ripped a chunk out of the observation booth?" Daibutsu proposed.

"That's exactly correct!" Timsh exclaimed. He observed the damage that the attack had caused. An entire wall had been ripped out from the observer's booth, as well as a vaguely cylindrical chunk of the floor, which left a gaping pit down into the dark which Timsh's chair lingered uncomfortably close to. Red hot metal sizzled and malfunctioning electronics crackled around the damaged and destroyed areas, all alongside the fuzzy white noise of the static that now filled the monitors all around the three invigilators.

Sniper began to slowly ascend into view inside the booth before Timsh, Scarlet and Daibutsu. The cable of his grappling hook fastened to a hook on his belt, and a shot from the Assured Destruction cannon charging in his mouth. The three assassins felt the danger immediately. It appeared they were now under duress.

"I want cash an' a vehicle, fast as ya can manage," The Level: Red demanded, setting his foot on the edge of the hole he'd made earlier in the booth's floor. The Grim Reaper observed the criminal curiously.

"How are you talking with that thing in your-"

"Quirk. Gimme the stuff now, if ya don't mind. This thing's fully charged now, and you've seen what it can do, I reckon,"

Daibutsu snarled, putting his feet down onto the ground and leering at the Level: Red who dare threaten him.

"You don't scare me, you dumb fucking hick," The assassin roared, billowing smoke emerging from his flaring nostrils as his powerful breath picked up in speed.

"Daibutsu, please calm down," Timsh requested, peeking his head over his over-sized chair. "And would you please hand me that box of cigars you had earlier?" He continued.

"Hmph," Daibutsu scoffed. Begrudgingly, he followed his superior's orders, tossing the old man the ornate cigar box from his jacket pocket and then turning his back to the others in the room, huffing mightily. The Grim Reaper took the box in one hand and rummaged in his pocket with the other.

"No funny business, old-timer," Sniper growled, watching Timsh's movements closely.

"Ha, I wouldn't think of such a thing," the Grim Reaper replied. He tossed the box over the Level: Red, alongside what appeared to be a ring of keys which he had pulled from his pocket. The criminal caught both items without diverting his attention.

"What's this supposed to be?" He asked, seemingly becoming inpatient.

"You can probably sell that box for quite a bit. I heard Daibutsu took it off some billionaire he assassinated the other day. As for the keys, they'll get you into the garage, where you'll find a snowmobile that I'm sure will be to your liking. And if you feel like the detour, there's also the combination to the safe in my office inscribed on the keychain. There may be some cash in there, though I may have spent it and forgotten…"

"You're awfully compliant… Never expected that…" Sniper hummed suspiciously.

"Why yes of course," Replied the Grim Reaper in a mannered tone. "I wouldn't deny such a polite request… Though I admit I find it a slight bit curious…"

"Curious how…?" Sniper pressed.

"Well, it's just not what I might ask for were I in a situation such as yours," The Grim Reaper said, rubbing his chin.

"And what would that be?" Sniper growled, his eyes narrowing.

He angrily stuffed the ornate box and the ring of keys inside an interior pocket. The Grim Reaper began to tap his chin thoughtfully, spinning slowly in his large leather chair.

"Scarlet," He began. "What's the name of that device, the one which you rub together and it makes a whining sound and then you put it on somebody's chest and it shocks their heart so that it starts moving again?" Timsh continued, miming out the motions as he described them.

"A-are you referring to a defibrillator sir?" Scarlet replied, slightly confused.

"That's right!" The Grim Reaper snapped his fingers in exclamation. He spun around on his chair and faced the Level: Red criminal. "Yes, a defibrillator," He said, placing his hands over his lap.

"What the fuck would I want one of those for?" Snarled the Level: Red, clenching his fist around the grappling line. The Grim Reaper looked taken aback. He combed his fingers through the few barren few strands of wispy white hair scattered across the crown of his head.

"Ah… So I take it you don't want anything to restart your heart, then?" He asked, leaning forward inquisitively.

"Restart my heart?" Said Sniper, a spike of panic surging through him. The criminal's breath suddenly became very short, shooting pains ran up his arms and neck. His eyelids drooped and his grip faltered. "Wh-what… did you…?" He stammered.

"The symptoms I expect you are experiencing are conducive to a heart attack, one which will soon turn in cardiac arrest if my technique were successful, hence the defibla-whatsit," Mused Timsh, leaning back in his chair.

"You… bas… tard-" Sniper tried to speak, but the strength of his muscles was leaking out of him. His unhinged jaw hung slack as his head tipped backward and the Assured Destruction cannon slid back down into his gullet, its charge dissipating.

"If you've retained consciousness for this long, then in all likelihood the heart attack won't kill you..." Timsh began. Sniper's eyes rolled into the back of his skull, his grip relinquished, his footing disappeared from under him as his body tipped backward over the precipice. "Now, the _fall_ , on the other hand..." He continued. The Level: Red's limp body had already dipped out of view.

Kiri awoke from his blackout on the stone floor of the faux church, his mouth was full of a bitter taste and he was somehow amazed as to how he was still alive. When he eventually righted himself into a lackadaisical hunching positing, he found himself raking his brain. Taking a second to steady his exhausted body on a damaged pew, he found a dark space in his memory. Out of everything from his last five minutes or so of consciousness, the only thing he knew for sure was that his troupe lay collapsed behind him, and before him was the corpse of Sniper. His body was bent and broken, head dashed against the stones and body flattened gruesomely over the floor.

"We… Have a red collar…" Said Raymond as he roused himself to consciousness. Being spry and energetic, he vaulted to his feet only to stumble when the ache of his muscles carried through.

"I don't know how," Kiri began. "I see he's dead, but I somehow feel like I lost,"

Raymond nodded slowly and considered that. He had blacked out last, and as such had some recollection of seeing everyone having fallen while Sniper still stood. Whatever happened between then and now though was just a happy accident to Raymond. Perhaps if he weren't feeling generous with himself, he would call it cheating.

"Look, Kiri, what we have before us is a key item, it's not something we can skip over," Raymond rationalized. He stared longingly at the unlocked red collar, partially damaged, which had skid over the floor some distance.

"I… I wanna pass…" Hadan added sheepishly. The rest of the chariots had stirred now.

"I'm not sure as to the full context of the conversation," Said Sébastien, pulling himself out of the ground in his ghostly form. "But I'm going to have to concur with Hadan,"

Damon growled in a begrudged fashion but said nothing. Kiri hung his head. Taking the collar rubbed him all sorts of the wrong way, but it seemed like he was outvoted.

"We… Were taking it then…" He said, his pride screaming at him from wherever he swallowed it down to.

"Damn," Said Raymond. "Can't help but feel that this is a little bittersweet, no?"

Kiri nodded, and they all limped out of the door of the church, a red collar in tow.

"ALL PROSPECTIVE EXAMINEES, YOUR TIME IS UP, PLEASE GATHER YOUR COLLARS AND RETURN TO THE STARTING AREA FOR GRADING!"

 **TO BE CONTINUED**


	6. Chapter 6 :Entrance Exam Arc:

_**[ENTRANCE EXAM ARC]**_

 **Chapter 6: Prince Kaiser**

Kaiser Vult stood stoically against a ventilation duct on the roof of a faux apartment block in the Zoldyque academy exam grounds, on the east side. He and his troupe had entered about last, so as they milled their way about the grounds over to this point they spectacularly encountered zero criminals. Speaking of his troupe, they had garnered his attention, drawing it away from the void of the ceiling with some incessant bickering. He wasn't listening closely but from the looks of things some benign conflict had broken out between the high-class uppity chick of the party, Emilia Davenport, if memory serves, and Michael Balcom, an unserious and shifty looking guy who rubbed Kaiser the wrong way. A resounding slap to the face put an end it quickly, and the girl stormed off to the precipice of the roof in a huff, while Michael stayed back and rubbed his sore cheek, still grinning.

Kaiser decided he should talk to Emilia. He thought it best not to let her ruminate and have things boil over once again, and he needed some information from her anyway. He strode right up and asked his question bluntly.

"Are there any criminals nearby? Notify them and let them come to us," He said. Emilia turned to him, her scowl fading into a polite but disinterest, business-like expression. The girl was tiny in comparison to the hulking Kaiser, or anyone in the troupe for that matter. She had bright blue eyes and eyebrows that were bushier than would usually be befitting for a gentlewoman such as her self. Her hair took the form of two cream colored and drill-shaped pigtails. Aside from that, she had a chubby face with rosy cheeks, a button nose and she wore formal dress. Interestingly to Kaiser though, was her muscle mass, which while not exceptional was beyond what he expected for a small girl. The calluses on her hand also screamed 'fighter' to Kaiser, which piqued his interest, but not enough to draw any expression from him.

"Yes, actually. There's a crowd going past now, they should be on their way in just a moment," She said blankly.

"Numbers?" Kaiser asked.

"Quite a lot, I suppose," Emilia replied, looking out over the skyline of the faux test environment.

"ETA?" Said, Kaiser.

"Now," Said Emilia. There was a rumble from below them, and raucous noise of criminals piling into the building and yelping giddily. Kaiser huffed, stretched his muscles in preparation and turned around to the rest of his troupe.

"So… are we going?" He asked. There was a blank silence from the other members of his troupe.

"Sure thing boss. Was getting tired of waiting…" Answered Michael casually. Michael was a tall boy, the tallest below Kaiser, but athletically, his shape was much poorer. He had albino pale skin and matching white buzzed hair, with the attire of a loose hoodie, unflattering muscle shirt, black cargoes and steel-toed boots that were black to match.

"I'm not your boss. Don't call me your boss," Snapped back Kaiser.

"You seem like a boss to me. You got that strong aura about ya'" Michael grinned. Another member of the Regicide troupe interjected to support Michael. Jin Uzuna was an animalistic looking and lean built boy who was in the middle of the pack when it came to height. He had a wild black mane of hair with horn-like growths extending from either side and sharp external canines and pointed ears. Most notable about him were his disturbing coal-black veins which were clearly visible just under the skin.

"I think I… uh… See where he's coming from. You do have a commanding presence," He said, his tone positive and reassuring. "I think you'd be a good leader," He beamed. Kaiser growled and sneered at the thought of it. He much preferred working alone, so being forced into a group like this was a nightmare scenario.

"Let's just get to work," Kaiser stated, dipping over the edge of the building and entering through a window by a fire escape. Michael gave him a weird look before walking in his direction, only to be given pause by the exclamation of another troupe-mate.

"Hey, why not take the stairs, dumbass?" Said the girl in a snarky tone. She was only slightly less tall than Michael, exactly as tall as Jin, basically. She had a head of straight reddish-brown hair with a dyed blue streak. Her loose fitting shirt gave everyone else a good view of her well-developed musculature, particularly around the biceps. Speaking of the arms, each was adorned fully in tattoos, a pair of sleeves which in one side depicted joyful compositions of life and youth, and on the other side depicted bleakness and death. Her bright blue eyes were only barely enough to take attention away from the grisly scar on her cheek.

"Ah! Alexia! How you doin'?" Said Michael, sauntering up to meet her. They met eyes for a moment, and Alexia's expression instantly turned into a grimace. The girl wasted no time kicking Michael down the stairs by the ass, with Jin following after him. Alexia closed the door after Jin and sat on the wall next to Emilia.

"Man, I don't know that Michael kid very well, but he seems like a cunt, doesn't he?" She asked. Emilia nodded in agreement.

"Hey, boss! Check out this badass gun!" Squeed a Level: Blue as he and his posse of criminals ascended the stairs of the faux apartment block and entered the middle-most floor. The criminal was lanky but with sparse pockets of fat, giving him a lumpy appearance. The Level: Yellow, a bony looking man in dark clothing, scolded his inferior and disregarded the statement, but his enthusiasm was not sated. "Nah Nah, lookie here boss. Check it! Its all shiny, and I bet it packs a punch too, see how wide the barrel is? I'm so glad I rifled through that kid's pockets, god rest his soul… heh… just kidding, fuck him,"

"Do you ever shut up?" Asked the Level: Yellow. The Level: Blue frowned and obliged his better.

"Oooh! Nice gun!" Cooed Michael, appearing suddenly from around the corner. The criminal, lost in his thoughts turned to reply to the student without questioning.

"Yeah, well-" The criminal glanced down to the hand which was holding the gun, and it had disappeared. His eyes shot over to Michal, who he only now realized was his de facto enemy. The boy was holding his gun up to the fluorescent ceiling light, his mouth and eyes wide with glee as the polished metal twinkled.

"Mhm. That's why I borrowed it," Michael continued. "Don't worry though, I'm no thief, I traded it with you. Check in your hand, I left you a little present,"

The Level: Blue turned over his hand slowly, and unfurled his fingers delicately at the same time. There in the base of his palm, a grenade had been placed gingerly. Between his shocked gasps, the Level: Blue could hear it ticking. He couldn't see a pin, either.

"Unfortunately, the pin was just a little too much weight, sorry about that…" Michael hummed, sticking the gun down his pants and turning around. The Level: Blue tried to mouth something angrily, but he never got the chance. He and several buddies not quick enough to dive out of the way or through doors were instantly decimated in the grenade's impressive fireball, and what remained of their mangled bodies bounded around the narrow walls with their blood splattering gorily around.

 **-/-**

 _ **Name:**_ _MICHAEL BALCOM_

 _ **Quirk:**_ _Swap_

 _Michael can exchange objects that he holds with objects that others within his visual range are holding, provided the two objects are comparable in size. The exchange is silent and usually goes undetected by the subject, making it useful for purposes of stealthy maneuvers and theft._

 **-/-**

The Level: Yellow who had led the group bolted down the corridor at the first sight of danger with the speed of an Olympic sprinter.

"Those idiots! Falling for such a cheap trick! I'll have to flank these shitty kids with what's left of my posse. We can regroup in a minute I'm sure…" He cursed. His sprint has halted summarily when in his state of deep thought he bounced right off the sturdy frame of Kaiser. The examinee snorted like a buffalo, saying nothing but giving a look that said everything. Mostly though, the look said 'fight me'.

"Heh… Are you sure about this, little kiddie? We're in a pretty far off side corridor… If things go poorly your buddies might not be here to bail you out…" They snorted. Kaiser spat on the Level: Yellow's shoe, while he kicked off both of his. The criminal hissed like a cat as they leaped back. Bringing their hands up, they splayed out their fingers and pointed them at Kaiser. Splinters and sharp shards of bone were catapulted out of his body from under the fingernails. They were sharp enough to be lethal, and their speed was to match, Kaiser could tell at a glance, but his stern persona was unflinching. He swung his leg around to the door of a nearby supply closet and grabbed the brass handle with naught but his prehensile toes. Then with a mighty tug, the hefty oaken thing popped right off its hinges. Kaiser swung it around with his legs, thrusting it out in front of him like a shield just in time to block each of his opponent's projectiles. The criminal scoffed. From his shielded position, Kaiser took the time to unleash a potent roundhouse kick into the door, bending and denting it while at the same time sending it skidding upright down the corridor at his foe. The huge door took up so much space in the claustrophobic corridor that there was nowhere do dodge, so the criminal decided not to. With a grunt, plates of bone emerged from under his skin and wrapped around his body, while spiked skeletal protrusions from his soles rooted him to the ground. A fine suit of armor, he thought. He leaned into the attack with a solid stance and deflected the force with ease, stopping the door right in front of him. The criminal laughed and grinned, opening his mouth wide. From the space where his teeth met his gums, rib-like spikes emerged with velocity, shooting out like air from organ pipes and chewing through the thick wood in no time flat. The criminal was feeling cocky; he poked his head through the hole he had made and cheekily stuck out his tongue, a fatal error. Kaiser was already right behind the door, pressed up against a wall so as to not be instantly obvious. He dove fist first through the hole, startling the criminal thoroughly. The reactive recoil of his head was not enough to save him though, Kaiser's fist was faster. Extending only his middle finger, Kaiser shot straight through to the eye, gouging right past it and stabbing knuckle deep into the socket. Stillness. Kaiser felt around with the lone finger, feeling soft brain matter on the end. It was good, he thought, that he had made it through the skull as he had hoped. The criminal couldn't speak or use his quirk, as the brain damage sent waves of death to uneven nerves, making the Level: Yellow go lopsided and floppy before he was totally brain-dead, propped up only by Kaiser's middle finger. The examinee punted the door, making it tip over and drag the criminal along with it as it fell. Kaiser's finger emerged from the Level: Yellow's eye socket with a satisfying pop before the corpse was flattened under the weight of both the door and all six foot six of the muscle-bound Kaiser.

Back in the main corridor, Jin had caught up with Michael, and they took their time with the bodies of the various dead criminals that lay scattered about.

"Hey, really good trick you pulled there! It's an interesting quirk you've got. You'd probably think it's best for a thief, but after seeing that I'm sure it's perfect for an assassin," Jin gushed to his teammate, smiling widely.

"Well, aren't you Mr. Supportive," Michael sighed.

"People say that on occasion," Began Jin. "But to be honest I was hoping you'd leave a couple for me cuz' damn I could go for some killing right about now," He continued.

"You…? I see…" Michael replied, slightly disarmed by how upfront he was.

"Yeah… Been a good while since I just fucking murdered a person. I'm getting really thirsty…" Jin continued, wringing his hands and licking his large canines. Even Michael was put off a bit.

"W-wouldn't have pinned you as the murdering type…" Michael said.

"Let's just say I caved to peer pressure…" replied Jin. Just then, the boy got his wish. Three Level: Blues quite literally burst from the walls, stragglers who had hidden from the explosion by taking cover in the faux apartments. Jin was quick to set his quirk into action, or more accurately it burst into action like a reflex. From the veiny dark lines which traced around Jin's fingers, bright green cysts began to expand and undulate. In only a moment they grew to full size and burst, revealing Jin's now mutated hand. It was vaguely mammalian, but nothing even close to a primate. The most notable feature was the enormous claw-like fingernails which grew explosively even now. He pointed his fingers at the criminals, managing to pierce through all three of them and hold them aloft at a safe distance from his body.

"These claws… they're perfect for warding off your close range attacks…" Said Jin. The nails had gone straight through the criminals, but it didn't appear lethal. Two of them grasped at him in enraged fashion, while the third quietly blew a bubble of expanding water from his crab-like jaw. The bubble was psychically propelled towards the distracted Jin and in an instant fused over his face, encompassing his head. The bubbles which exploded out of his mouth were enough for Michael to apprehend that this was no ordinary bubble. It was full to the brim with water, a perfect weapon for drowning your opponent. Jin grasped at his throat, desperate for a breath. His claws dissipated as his mammalian features melted away into his usual form.

" _Crap crap crap… Nothing good around here to swap… This is looking a bit dire, might have to retreat…_ " Thought Michael, almost turning and running, but then similar cysts began to form around Jin's neck. He stood tall and firm as they overcame his head. They exploded, sending small spurts of embryotic pus into the bubble of water which encased his head. The boy's transformation was revealed, his head had puffed up and was covered in fish-like markings and scales. Most importantly, his neck was now adorned with a fresh set of gills which took in the water and oxygenated Jin's starved lungs.

"A pufferfish mutation… It's two birds with one stone then?" Jin said. "Now I can breath even with this water around my head…" He continued. He took in an incredibly deep breath and his head began to expand even further, becoming engorged as spikes began to emerge. Jin spun around in a burst of energetic activity, his spikes growing long and sharp such that his opponents, along with the walls around them, were bisected with one long and smooth circular motion. He stopped spinning on a dime, his tornado of spikes proving effective. "And I get some weapons to dispatch of the garbage…" He concluded, his pufferfish body melting away as the quirk of the crab-mouthed criminal who now lay dead released his quirk and the bubble popped into a refreshing spurt of cool water.

 **-/-**

 _ **Name:**_ _JIN UZUNA_

 _ **Quirk:**_ _Selective Evolution_

 _Jin will respond to extreme stimulus by rapidly changing his genetic information to adapt to his circumstances, whether they be harsh environmental conditions, violent threats or challenging obstacles. His mutations tend to mimic real-life animals, and he can only have one at a time. Additionally, certain mutations will take longer for him to 'Evolve' than others, ranging from seconds to minutes based on factors like scale and complexity._

 **-/-**

Emilia had opted to remain on the ceiling as she had previously discussed with Kaiser and the others. An Antennae, not dissimilar to the ones you might find poking out of the top of a radio, extending from the very top of her head as she sat crossed legged on the roof and looked down at seemingly nothing.

"What the hell is that?" Asked Alexia, who had decided similarly to stay up here with the girl so they could watch each other's backs. She brought a forefinger within poking distance of the antenna's tip but was warded off by a bat off the hand from Emilia.

"It's my quirk. It picks bioelectric impulses and converts them into visual stimulus," Responded Emilia. Alexia nodded her head as she tried to pretend she understood.

"Is… that all it does?" Alexia pressed. Emilia sighed.

 **-/-**

 _ **Name:**_ _Emilia Davenport_

 _ **Quirk:**_ _Antennae_

 _Using the antennae on her head, Emilia can send and receive bioelectrical signals as well as perceive radio waves, static electricity and other forms of energy. Using this, she can interface with technology, detect people and certain objects at range or through walls and overload or override biological or mechanical constructs to aid or hinder their function, deactivating or strengthening them temporarily. In people, she can even induce migraines, vertigo or hallucinations._

 **-/-**

"Oh, that's interesting… So what are you doing exactly?" Alexia asked.

"I'm trying to keep tabs on everyone and watch for anyone coming our way. And before you ask, I can't communicate with any of them, sending any signals beyond basic impulses isn't possible, so meaningful communication is impossible," Elaborated Emilia. She sounded exasperated from having to explain. Alexia rubbed her chin and rested her back against the air vent.

"That's int—"

"Wait," Said Emilia, cutting off her compatriot. There was a sudden urgency in her voice. Alexia stopped speaking and widened her eyes, looking around in a startled fashion. "I would step away from the air vent if I were you," Emilia said ominously. Alexia flinched and scrambled away, turning to keep her eyes on the grate.

"There's one coming up through there?" She inquired frantically. Emilia nodded, backing off herself and getting to her feet. They both focused intently in the direction of the grate, Alexia keeping her eyes on the opening itself, while Emilia traced her sight upwards, following the path of their attacker. There was a clanging, and a low rumbling which bubbled forth from within the metal pipe, as a pair of sinister eyes glinted just at the edge. Alexia reacted instantly, throwing out her hands as if preparing to attack, but before her wind-up was through, a pair of feet slammed hard against the inward side of the grate, buckling it and sending it flying off its hinges at projectile velocities. Alexia was struck and staggered back, stumbling to one side as the grate skidded off to the other. From the pipe, emerged a disturbing looking man with sickly red-purple skin. He was covered head to toe in mucus and wearing naught but the barest that was required to cover his decency, giving the girls plenty of room to observe the regular pattern of thick, fat wrinkles adorning his vertically elongated form. A yellow collar slid up and down his smooth neck, occasionally reaching as high as the bottom lip of his chinless head.

" _He's… Like a worm…_ " Alexia thought, watching his rhythmic swaying and his half fluid, half floppy movements. She lunged forward to attack once more, but in response the worm man hocked and spat, a globule of phlegm striking her arm and splattering over her abdomen. She was disgusted but not exactly phased, that was until the true payload burst forth from the murky white slime. A bright pink glistening worm as thick as a thumb and as long as a ruler wrapped itself tightly around Alexia's arm and bit with unseeable teeth, boring a hole in her arm and emerging from the other side. Alexia screeched and bent over, giving the flesh-eating worm a chance to wrap back around and take another bite. It dug into the flesh once more, before Alexia swallowed her pain and grit her teeth for long enough to grab it by the exposed midsection. She pulled as hard as she could, ripping it out of her arm and holding it aloft in her other arm. Emilia saw the worm man raise one eyebrow, she could make out that he was impressed even under all the freakish facial mutation he was under. Alexia crushed the worm's head in her fist and threw the mushy remains to one side.

The worm man slurred his speech as slime bubbled forth from his mouth.

"That was quite good…" He globbed, his body twisting around with disturbing glee. He wormed his way right out of the air duct and onto the top of it, sitting on his haunches. "So impressive, that was, that I may allow you the privilege of meeting some more of my good friends… Would you like to meet some more of my good friends? I haven't fed them in a while…" He said, opening his mouth to an unnatural wideness. The stench of blood accompanied the horde of carnivorous worms that poured out of his mouth and onto the roof below. They wriggled their way over to Emilia and Alexia at great speed, carpeting the floor.

"Damn… Just on a' these things took a chunk outta me… I'm not sure my quirk is too good in a situation like this…" Alexia groaned, stepping back to avoid the oncoming mass of worms.

"Don't worry about it," Said Emilia. She scrunched up her face, and crouched down, making grunting noises. Alexia could tell she was exerting herself with something somehow, but only when she felt a pounding in her head and the bristling feeling of her hairs standing up did she understand what. A powerful bioelectrical signal surged from her antennae, dominating the worms' primitive minds and overloading them until they died. Now a smattering of curled up dead worms was spread out over the roof, and the worm man grasped his head and leaped up and down, hooting with rage.

"B-bitch! All my worms! I'll kill you!" He screeched. Alexia rolled her eyes at his empty threat. She outstretched both her hands and from each of her palms shot a hefty metal hook like what you might see on a winch that was attached to her hand by a length of smooth black cord. She let both of the hooks dangle down to her ankles before gently spinning them up. With a rush of circular wind, both of them spun up to speeds that made them a plate-shaped blur on either side of the girl. She grinned as she displayed her finesse with the natural weapons, and the Worm man's eyes took on a glint of fear. With a flick of the arm, the hooks whirled toward the Worm man, biting into his flesh and carrying him along with them as their momentum caused them to whirl and twist in the air. Alexia pivoted her whole body, tossing the lengths of cord over her head and making the hooks, and the Worm man along with them. The length of the cord was extended as to go past the edge of the roof, sending the Worm man careening into the wall halfway down the building. He smashed head first into the hard brick while at the same time a deft maneuver from Alexia released him from the hooked cords. His soft body splattered messily against the bricks, leaving the dregs of his corpse to drip to the floor and his yellow collar to shatter on contact with the ground, ever-so-slightly disappointing Alexia.

 **-/-**

 _ **Name:**_ _Alexia Vordaskaya_

 _ **Quirk:**_ _Grapple_

 _Alexia can produce long cords topped by sharp, heavy hooks from the tips of her extremities (those being, the hands and feet). The cords are durable and light, and she can extend or retract them to bind her opponents or traverse horizontal or vertical distance. The hooks are also powerful slashing weapons when moving at speed. Her hooks contain nerve endings, so snapping one causes pain skin to losing a finger. They will eventually regenerate, but Alexia becomes unable to use her quirk from that limb even to dangle rope for the duration of the regeneration._

 **-/-**

"Hmph, that was relatively impressive, I suppose. How would one go about doing that?" Asked Emilia, expressing curiosity beyond what seemed like a surface level dismissal.

"It's pretty easy. The trick is, once you get going, don't stop," Explained Alexia, beaming in a self-satisfied way. Emilia nodded, seeming almost interested.

"Hey hey hey ladies!" Cried Michael, kicking in the door to the staircase which led up to the ceiling. Emilia and Alexia groaned audibly. "Have either of you seen Kaiser?"

As if in response to the question, the echoing crack of a mighty punch and the shattering of bones blasted from below the precipice of the building's roof, drawing the attention of the four present Regicides. Their eyes traced the body of an unfortunate Level: Blue who had been catapulted into the air by an unseen attacker, and now arced down, smashing onto the floor between them all.

"Hey, would you look at that, free points!" Michael hopped over to the corpse and reached for the Blue Collar which lingered open around their neck. His fingers hadn't even scraped it when Kaiser, apparently the perpetrator of the Level: Blue's demise, threw himself up onto the roof with them.

"Put that down!" He barked sternly, suddenly, and loudly, eliciting a yelp of surprise from Michael.

"W-what the hell was that for?" Stuttered Michael, staggering back from the sudden shock.

"Utterly shameful… You would really skim through this exam on one and three-pointers?" Kaiser growled. Michael looked left, and he looked right.

"Well, what the hell else is there? These points are right here, what the alternative, jackass?" He snarked. Kaiser huffed angrily.

"Weakling. As soon as the exam started, I knew it would be pointless to go around cleaning up these losers. If we're gonna prove ourselves and get stronger, we need to aim for the top," Kaiser said.

"Meaning?" Michael said, fearing he already knew. Alexia gave Kaiser a similar gormless look of anticipation. Jin looked a mixture of afraid and excited, his hands shaking slightly, while it appeared Emilia knew instantly what was up.

"If you mean what I believe you mean, then I'm afraid I can't advise it. Strategically it makes no sense," she scolded disapprovingly.

"I don't care about what you advise. If you've all decided I'm your leader then you have to agree with me," Retorted Kaiser, summarily discarding the girl's input. She felt offended at her disregard but managed to suck it up enough to not get too confrontational.

"So that's it then?" Asked Jin.

"Yup. We're going straight for the Level: Red," Kaiser declared.

Somewhere else, an intimidating figure perused a dark lane casually.

"Now then, anyone left to kill?" Asked a Level: Red criminal aloud. His surroundings were bare, aside from the scars of battles fought and won. Stains of blood and scars in buildings, but no corpses. A principled predator like him left no bodies, it was uncouth. He adjusted his monocle haughtily at the mere disgusting thought of such impoliteness. His tophat too needed a quick readjustment, and the bristling fur on the bridge of his snout got a good pat down too.

This man went by the moniker of 'Badger'. 'Mr Badger' to his acquaintances, and 'Honey' to his pals. It was a plain and obvious name for a badger mutant, but Badger thought that sometimes less is more. For instance, less bodies left on the ground meant more bodies in his tummy, that was just science. He sniffed the air, his sensitive nose seeking out strong prey as it always did. A promising set of smells perched themselves on a faux apartment building over yonder.

"What a delight! I'll greet them right away!" Giggled Badger.

 **TO BE CONTINUED?**

 **A/N**

 _Hey all! If you received the PM I sent out, then you'll know that unfortunately, this will very likely be the last update for this story! If you didn't know that, now you do! I wanted to deliver on showing off all the student OCs, but I think this stories moment has passed. With that said, I have a new story uploaded, and if you were a fan of that one definitely check it out and tell me your thoughts. And, just for old times sake, what did you all think of these chapters? Where they worth the wait ;) Ok I kid but I still hope you enjoyed them! If ever the mood strikes, I may finish this final segment of the Entrance Exam Arc, because I have a big unfinished chunk that I wasn't able to post with what I have here. No promises, but we may well find out what happens between Honey Badger and the Regicide Troupe yet! Thank you all for reading this story, I'll see you in the next one!_

 _Quick note- One of the OCs in this story was a replacement! The original character I had in that slot was submitted by some fellow who quit fanfiction and did vulgar things to his account, and if you don't know who/what I mean, well I'd rather not tell you!_


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